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CQEXmCHT DEPOSm
THE NOTORIOUS MRS.
EBBS
f J WAY ^0! 895
A DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS.
Acting Rights Reserved.
WALTER H. BAKER & CO.,
BOSTON.
6 J-
THE
! Notorious Mrs. Ebbsmith
A DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS
BY
•n
<)«j^
ARTHUR W/PINERO
I jViAyg(5i895
All rights reserved nnder the International CopyH^i^_^^^^^
Performance forbidden, and right of representation reserved. :"
Ap2)lication for the right of performing the above piece must
he made to the publishers.
BOSTON
1895
K.
THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY.
Duke of St. Olpherts.
Sir Sandford Cleeve.
Lucas Cleeve.
Kev. Amos Winterfield.
Sir George Brodrick.
Dr. Kirke.
Fortune.
Antonio Poppi.
Agnes.
Gertrude Thorpe.
Sybil Cleeve.
Nella.
Hephzibah.
The Scene is laid in Venice ; firstly at the Palazzo Arco-
nati, a lodging-house on the Grand Canal ; afterwards
in an apartment in the Cawpo S. Bartolomeo.
It is Eastertide, a week passing between the events of the
first and second acts.
Copyright, 1895, by Arthur W. Pinero.
All rights reserved.
THE
NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
THE FIRST ACT.
The scene is a room in the Palazzo Arconatl, on the
Grand Canal, Venice. The room itself Is heau-
tifal in its decayed grandeur, hut the furniture
and hangings are eitlier tawdnj and meretri-
cious or avowedly modern. The tliree ivindous
at the back open on to a narrow, covered balcony,
or loggia, and through them can be seen the
ivest side of the canal. Between the recessed
double doors, on either side of the room, is a
fireplace out of nse, and a marble mantelpiece^
but a tiled stove is used for a wood fire. Break-
fast things are laid on a table. The sjin
streams into the room.
Antonio Poppi and Nella, tivo Venetian ser-
vants, with a touch of the picturesque in their
attire, are engaged in clearing the breakfast
table.
Nell A.
\_Turning her head.'] Ascolta ! (Listen!)
Antonio.
Una gondola alio scalo. (A gondola at our
steps.) \_They open the centre ivindow ; go out on
3
4 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
to the halcony, and look down beloiv.~\ La Signora
Thorpe. (The Signora Thorpe.)
Nella.
Con suo fratello. (With her brother.)
Antonio.
\_Calling.'] Buon di, Signor Winterfiekl ! Iddio
la benedica ! (Good day, Signor Winterfiekl !
The blessing of God be upon you !)
Nella.
\_Cairing.~\ Buon di, Signora! La Madonna
r assista ! (Good day, Signora ! May the Virgin
have you in her keeping !)
Antonio.
\_Rf'turnin(j to the room.'] Noi siamo in ritardo
di tutto questa mattina. (We are behindhand
with everything this morning.)
Nella.
\_Follow'ing him.'] E vero. (That is true.)
Antonio.
\_Biistling about.] La stufa ! (The stove !)
Nella.
\_Throiving wood into the stove.] Che tu sia
benedetta per rammentarnielo ! Questi Inglesi
lion si contentono del sole. (Bless you for re-
THE NOTORIOUS MRS, EBBSMITH. 5
membering it! These English are not content
with the sun.)
{Leaving only a vase of flmvers upon the
table, they hurry out ivith the break-
fast things. At the same 7nome?it,
Fortune, a manservant, enters, show-
ing in Mrs. Thorpe and the Key.
Amos Winterfield. Gertrude
Thorpe is a pretty^ honest-looking
young woman of about seven and
twenty. Site is in mouiming, and
has sorroufid eyes, and a complex-
ion that is too delicate; but natural
cheerfulness and brightness are seen
through all. Amos is about forty —
big, burly, gruff ; he is untidily
dressed, and has a pipe in his hand.
Fortune is carrying a pair of
freshly cleaned, tan-coloured boots
upon boot-trees.
Gertrude.
Now, Fortune, you ought to have told us down-
stairs that Dr. Kirke is with Mrs. Cleeve.
Amos.
Come away, Gerty. Mrs. Cleeve can't want to
be bored with us just now.
Fortune.
Mrs. Cleeve give 'er ordares she is always to
be bored wiz Madame Thorpe and Mr. Winterfield.
6 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Amos.
Ha, lia !
Gertrude.
[/S?«i7/??Y/.] Fortune !
Fortune.
Besides, ze doctares vill go in 'alf a minute, you
se
Gertrude.
Doctors !
Amos.
What, is there another doctor with Dr. Kirke ?
Fortune.
Ze great physician, Sir Brodrick.
Gertrude.
Sir George Brodrick ? Amos !
Amos.
Doesn't Mr. Cleeve feel so well ?
Fortune.
Oh, yes. But Mrs. Cleeve 'appen to read in a
newspapare zat Sir George Brodrick vas in Flor-
ence for ze Paque — ze Eastare. Sir Brodrick
vas Mr. Cleeve's doctare in London, Mrs. Cleeve
tell me, so 'e is acquainted wiz Mr. Cleeve's
inside.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 7
Amos.
Ho, ho !
Gertrude.
Mr. Cleeve's constitution, Fortune.
Fortune.
Excuse, madame. Zerefore Mrs. Cleeve she
telegraph for Sir Brodrick to come to Venise.
Akos.
To consult with Dr. Kirke, I suppose.
Fortune.
\_Liste7ilng.~\ 'Ere is ze doctares.
[Dr. Kirke enters, followed by Sir
George Brodrick. Kirke is a
shabby, snuff-taklng old gentleman —
blunt, but kind ; Sir George, on the
contrary, is scrujndously neat in his
dress, and has a suave, i^vofessional
manner. Fortune withdraics.
Kirke.
Good-morning, Mr. Winterfield. \_To Ger-
trude.] How do you do, my dear ? You're get-
ting some colour into your pretty face, Fm glad
to see. \_To Sir George.] Mr. Winterfield — Sir
George Brodrick.
[Sir George and Amos shaJce hands.
8 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
KiRKE.
[To Sir George.] Mrs. Thorpe. [Sir George
shakes hands iv'ith Gertrude.] Sir George and I
started life together in London years ago; now he
finds me here in Venice — well, we can't all win
the race, eh ^
Sir George.
My dear old friend! \_To Gertrude.] Mr.
Cleeve has been telling me, Mrs. Thorpe, how
exceedingly kind you and your brother have been
to him during his illness.
Gertrude.
Oh, Mr. Cleeve exaggerates our little services.
Amos.
Vve done nothing.
Gertrude.
Nor I.
Kirke.
Now, my dear !
Gertrude.
Dr. Kirke, you weren't in Florence with us
you're only a tale-bearer.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 9
KiRKE.
Well, I've excellent authority for my story of a
young woman who volunteered to share the nurs-
ing of an invalid at a time when she herself stood
greatly in need of being nursed.
Gertrude.
Nonsense ! [T<9 kSir George.] You know,
Amos — my big brother over there — Amos and
I struck up an acquaintance with Mr. and Mrs.
Cleeve at Florence, at the Hotel d'ltalie, and
occasionally one of us would give Mr. Cleeve his
dose while poor Mrs. Cleeve took a little rest or
a drive — but positively that's all.
KiRKE.
You don't tell us —
Gertrude.
I've nothing more to tell, except that I'm awfully
fond of Mrs. Cleeve —
Amos.
Oh, if you once get my sister on the subject
of Mrs. Cleeve — \_Taklng up a newspaper. '\
Gertrude.
[To Sir George.] Yes, I always say that if I
were a man searching for a wife, I should be in-
clined to base my ideal on Mrs. Cleeve.
10 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH,
Sir George.
\_Edging away toioanJs Kirke, with a smyrised,
uncomfortable sviile.'] Eh ? Really ?
Gertrude.
You conceive a different ideal, Sir George ?
Sir George.
Oh— well —
Gertrude.
Well, Sir George ?
Amos.
Perhaps Sir George has heard that Mrs. Cleeve
holds regrettable opinions on some points. If so,
he may feel surprised that a parson's sister —
Gertrude.
Oh, I don't share all Mrs. Cleeve's views, or
sympathize Avitli them, of course. But they suc-
ceed only in making me sad and sorry. Mrs.
Cleeve's opinions don't stop me from loving the
gentle, sweet woman ; admiring her for her patient,
absorbing devotion to her husband ; wondering at
the beautiful stillness with which she seems to
glide through life ! —
Amos.
\_Puttlnr/ down the neivspai^er ; to Sir George
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. ir
and KiRKE.] I told you so ! [To Gertrude.]
Gertrude, I'm sure Sir George and Dr. Kirke want
to be left together for a few minutes.
Gertrude.
[Goinr/ u]) to the ivindou\~\ I'll sun myself on
the balcony.
Amos.
And I'll go and buy some tobacco. \_To Ger-
trude.] Don't be long, Gerty. {Nodding to Sir
George and Kirke.] Good-morning.
\_They return his 7iod, and he goes out.
Gertrude.
[0)1 the balcony outside the window to Kirke
and Sir George.] Dr. Kirke, I've heard what doc-
tors' consultations consist of. After looking at the
pictures you talk about whist.
\_She closes the ivindoiu and sits.
Kirke.
{Producing his snuff-hox.'\ Ha, ha !
Sir George.
Why, this lady and her brother evidently haven't
the faintest suspicion of the actual truth, my dear
Kirke !
Kirke.
{Taking snuff. ~\ Not the slightest.
12 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Sir George.
The woman made a point of being extremely-
explicit with you, you tell me ?
KiRKE.
Yes ; she was plain enough with me. At our
first meeting she said, '^ Doctor, I want you to
know so-and-so, and so-and-so, and so-and-so.'^
Sir George.
Eeally ? Well, it certainly isn't fair of Cleeve
and his — his associate to trick decent people like
Mrs. Thorpe and her brother. Good gracious, the
brother is a clergyman too !
Kirke.
The rector of some dull hole in the north of
England.
Sir George.
Really ?
Kirke.
A bachelor ; this Mrs. Thorpe keeps house for
him. She's a widow.
Sir George.
Really ?
Kirke.
Widow of a captain in the army. Poor thing !
She's lately lost her only child, and can't get over
it.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 13
Sir George.
Indeed, really, really ? . . . But about Cleeve
now — he had Roman fever of rather a severe
type ?
KiRKE.
In November. And then that fool of a Bicker-
staff at Rome allowed the woman to move him to
Florence too soon, and there he had a relapse.
However, when she brought him on here the man
was practically well.
Sir George.
The difficulty being to convince him of the fact,
eh ? A highly strung, emotional creature ?
KiRKE.
You've hit him.
Sir George.
I've known him from his childhood. Are you
still giving him anything ?
Kirke.
A little quinine, to humour him.
Sir George.
Exactly. \_Looldng at his watch.'] Where is
she, where is she ? I've promised to take ni}^ wife
shopping in the Merceria this morning. Bj^-the-
bye, Kirke, — I must talk scandal, I find, — this is
14 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
rather an odd circumstance. Whom do you think
I got a bow from as I passed through the hall
of the Danieli last night ? [Kikke (jrunts and
shakes his head.] The Duke of St. Olpherts.
KiRKE.
\_TaJdn(j snujf.'] Ah ! I suppose you're in with
a lot of swells now, Brodrick.
Sir George.
No, no, you don't understand me. The duke is
this young fellow's uncle by marriage. His Grace
married a sister of Lady Cleeve's, of Cleeve's
mother, you know.
KiRKE,
Oh! This looks as if the family are trying to
put a finger in the pie.
Sir George.
The duke may be here by mere chance. Still,
as you say, it does look — [^Lowering Ids voice as
Kirke rises, eyes an 02)ening door.~\ AYho's that ?
KiRKE.
The woman.
[Agnes enters. She moves firinlg but
noiselessly — a ijlacid. woman with a
siveet, low voice. Her dress is j^lain to
the verge of coarse7iess ; her face, tvhich
has little colour, is at the first glance
almost wholly unattractive.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 15
Agnes.
[^Looking from one to the other.'] I thought you
would send for me perhaps. \_To Sir Geokge.]
What do you say about him ?
KiRKE.
One moment. [^Pointing to the balconj/.'] Mrs.
Thorpe —
Agnes.
Excuse me.
\^She goes to the ivindoiv and opens it.
Gertrude.
0 Mrs. Cleeve ! \_Entering the room.~\ Am I in
the way ?
Agxes.
You are never that, dear. Eun along to my
room ; I'll call you in a minute or two. [Ger-
trude nods and goes to the door.~\ Take off your
hat and sit with me a little while.
Gertrude.
I'll stay for a bit, but this hat doesn't take off.
\_She goes out.
Agxes.
\To Sir George and Kirke.] Yes?
Sir George.
We are glad to be able to give a most favourable
1 6 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH.
report. I may say that Mr. Cleeve lias never ap-
peared to be in better health.
Agnes.
\_Dratving a deep hreath.~\ He will be very
much cheered by what you say.
Sir George.
\_B owing stiffly.'] I'm glad —
Agxes.
His illness left him with a morbid, irrational
impression that he would never be quite his former
self again.
Sir George.
A nervous man recovering from a scare. I've
helped to remove that impression, I believe.
Agnes.
Thank you. We have a troublesome, perhaps a
hard time before us ; we both need all our health
and spirits. \_Turning her head, listening.] Lucas ^
[Lucas enters the room. He is a hand-
some, intellectual-looking young man of
about eight and tiuenty.
Lucas.
\_To Agnes, excitedly.] Have you heard what
they say of me ?
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH, 17
Agnes.
\_Smiling.'] Yes.
Lucas.
How good of you, Sir George, to break up your
little holiday for the sake of an anxious, fidgety
fellow. \_To Agnes.] Isn't it ?
Agnes.
Sir George has rendered us a great service.
Lucas.
[Goingf to Kirke, brightlij.'] Yes, and proved
how ungrateful I've been to you, doctor.
Kirke.
Don't apologize. People who don't know when
they're well are the mainstay of my profession.
[ Offering snuff-box. ] Here —
[Lucas takes a pinch of sniffy laughingly .
Agnes.
{In a low voice to Sir George.] He has been
terribly hipped at times. {Taking up the vase of
flowers from the table.] Your visit will have made
him another man.
[She goes to a table, puts doivn the vase
upon the tray, and commences to cut
and arrange the fresh flowers she finds
there.
1 8 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Lucas.
\^Seeinff that Agnes is out of hearing.'] Excuse
me, Kirke — just for one moment. \_To Sir
George.] Sir George — [Kirke ^oms Agnes.]
You still go frequently to Great Cumberland
Place ?
Sir George.
Your mother's gout has been rather stubborn
lately.
Lucas.
Very likely she and my brother Sandford will
get to hear of yowv visit to me here ; in that case
you'll be questioned pretty closely, naturally.
Sir George.
My position is certainly a little delicate.
Lucas.
Oh, you may be perfectly open with my people
as to my present mode of life. Only — \_he mo-
tions Sir George to he seated ; they sit facing
each otJier'] only I want you to hear me declare
again plainly \_looking towards Agnes] that but
for the care and devotion of that good woman over
there, but for the solace of that woman's com-
panionship, I should have been dead months ago ;
I should have died raving in my awful bedroom
on the ground-floor of that foul Roman hotel.
Malarial fever, of course ! Doctors don't admit
— do they ? — that it is possible for strong men to
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 19
die of miserable marriages. And yet I was dying
in Rome, I truly believe, from my bitter, crushing
disappointment, from the consciousness of my
wretched, irretrievable —
[Fortune enters carrying Lucas's hat.,
(jloves, overcoat, and silk wrap, and,
upo7i a salver, a bottle of viedicine and
a glass.
Lucas.
{^Sliarply.'] Qu'y a-t-il, Fortune ?
Fortune.
Sir, you 'ave an appointment.
Lucas.
\_Rising.~\ At the Danieli at eleven. Is it so
late?
[Fortune p)laces the things upon the table.
Lucas puts the ivrap round his throat.
Agnes, who has turned on Fortune's
entrance, goes to Lucas and arranges
the lorap for him solicitously.
Sir George.
\^Rising.'] I have to meet Lady Brodrick at
the Fiazzetta. Let me take you in my gondola.
Lucas.
Thanks, delighted.
20 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH.
Agnes.
[To Sir George.] I would rather Lucas went
in the house gondola : I know its cushions are dry.
May he take you to the Piazzetta ?
Sir George.
\_A little stiffly.'] Certainly.
Agnes.
\_To Fortune.] Mettez les coussins dans la
gondole.
Fortune.
Bien, madam e.
[Fortune goes out. Agnes begins to
"measure a dose of medicine.
Sir George.
[To Agnes.] Er — I — ah —
Lucas.
[Putting on his gloves.] Agnes, Sir George —
Agnes.
\_Tu7ming to Sir George, the bottle and glass in
her hands.] Yes ?
Sir George.
\_Constrainedly.'] AYe always make a point of
acknowledging the importance of nursing as an
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 21
aid to medical treatment. I — I am sure Mr.
Cleeve owes you much in that respect.
Agnes.
Thank j^ou.
Sir George.
[To Lucas.] I have to discharge my gondola;
you'll iSnd me at the steps, Cleeve. [Agnes shifts
the viedicine bottle from one hand to the other so
that her rlgJit hand may be free, but Sir George
simpli/ boivs in a formal way and moves towards the
f/oor.] You are coming with us, Kirke ?
KiRKE.
Yes.
Sir George.
Do you mind seeing that I'm not robbed by my
gondolier ? \Jie goes out.
Agnes.
[Giving the medicine to LucAs, undisturbed.^
Here, dear.
Kirke.
[To Agnes.] May I pop in to-night for my
game of chess ?
Agnes.
Do, doctor ; I shall be very pleased.
22 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
KiRKE.
\_Shaking her hand in a marked ivay.'] Thank
you. \_He follows Sir George.
Agnes.
\_Looking after him.'] Liberal little man.
\_She has Lucas's overcoat in her hand ;
a small j)en-and-ink drawing of a
woman^s head droijs from one of the
Idockets. They pick it up together.
Agnes.
Isn't that the sketch you made of me in Flor-
ence ?
Lucas.
\_Replacing it in the coat j^ocket.] Yes.
Agnes.
You are carrying it about with you ?
Lucas.
I slipped it into my pocket thinking it might
interest the duke.
Agnes.
\_Assisting him ivlth his overcoat.'] Surely I am
too obnoxious in the abstract for your uncle to en-
tertain such a detail as a portrait.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 23
Lucas.
It struck me it might serve to correct certain
preconceived notions of my people's.
Agxes.
Images of a beautiful temptress with peach-
blossom cheeks and stained hair ?
Lucas.
That's what I mean 5 I assume they suspect a
decline of taste on my part of that sort. Good-by,
dear.
Agnes.
Is this mission of the Duke of St. Olpherts the
final attempt to part us, I wonder ? \_Angrily, her
voice hardening.'l Why should they harass and
disturb you as they do ?
Lucas.
[Kisslnff her.'] Nothing disturbs me now that
I know I am strong and well. Besides everybody
will soon tire of being shocked. Even conven-
tional morality must grow breathless in the chase.
\_He leaves her. She opens the door and calls.
Agnes.
Mrs. Thorpe ! I'm alone now.
\^She goes on to the halcomj through the
centre window, and looks doivn beloiv.
Gertrude enters and joins her.
24 THE NOTORIOUS MRS, EBBSMTTH.
Gertrude.
How well your husband is looking !
Agnes.
Sir George Brodrick pronounces liim quite re-
covered.
Gertrude.
Isn't that splendid ! [ Waving her hand and
calling. '\ Buon giorno, Signor Cleeve ! Come
molto meglio voi state ! [^Leaving the balcony,
laughing.'] Ha, ha ! my Italian !
[Agnes waves finally to the gondola below,
returns to the room, and slips her arm
through Gertrude's.
Agnes.
Two whole days since I've seen you.
Gertrude.
They've been two of my bad days, dear.
Agnes.
^Looking into her face.] All right now?
Gertrude.
Oh, " God's in His heaven " this morning !
When the sun's out I feel that my little boy's bed
in Ketherick Cemetery is warm and cosy.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 25
Agnes.
\_Patting Gertrude's hand.~\ Ah! —
Gertrude.
The weather's the same all over Europe, accord-
ing to the papers. Do you think it's really going
to settle at last ? To me these chilly, showery
nights are terrible. You know, I still tuck my
child up at night-time, still have my last peep
at him before going to my own bed ; and it is
awful to listen to these cold rains — drip, drip,
drip upon that little green coverlet of his !
\_She goes and stands by the window silently.
Agnes.
This isn't strong of you, dear Mrs. Thorpe. You
mustn't — you mustn't.
[Agnes brings the tray with the cut flowers
to the nearer table ; calmly and method-
ically she 7'esu7?ies trimming the stalks.
Gertrude.
You're quite right. That's over. Now, then,
I'm going to gabble for five minutes gaily. \_Set-
tling herself comfortably in an armchair.'] What
jolly flowers you've got there ! What have you
been doing with yourself ? Amos took me to the
Ciiffe Quadri yesterday to late breakfast, to cheer
me up. Oh, I've something to say to you ! At
the Gaffe, at the next table to ours, there were
26 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
three English people — two men and a girl —
home from India, I gathered. One of the men
was looking out of the window, quizzing the folks
walking in the Piazza, and suddenly he caught
sight of your husband. [Agnes's hands pause in
their ivork.'] ''I do believe that's Lucas Cleeve,"
he said. And then the girl had a peep, and said,
'^ Certainly it is." And the man said, " I must
find out where he's stopping ; if Minerva is with
him, you must call." " Who's Minerva ? " said
the second man. "Minerva is Mrs. Lucas Cleeve,"
the girl said ; " it's a pet-name — he married a chum
of mine, a daughter of Sir John Steyning's, a year
or so after I went out." \_Rising and coming
down.~\ Excuse me, dear. Do these people really
know you and your husband, or were they talking
nonsense ?
[Agnes takes the vase of faded floivers, goes
on to the balcony and empties the con-
■ tents of the vase into the canal. Then
she stands hy the window^ her hack to-
wards Gertrude.
Agnes.
No ; they evidently know Mr. Cleeve.
Gertrude.
Your husband never calls you by that pet-name
of 3^ours. Why is it you haven't told me you're
a daughter of Admiral Steyning's ?
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 27
Agnes.
Mrs. Thorpe —
Gertrude.
[WarirUi/.^ Oil, I must say what I mean! I
have often pulled myself up short in my gossips
with you, conscious of a sort of wall between us.
[Agnes coiiies slowli/ from the loindow.'] Somehow,
I feel now that you haven't in the least made
a friend of me. I'm hurt. It's stupid of me ; I
can't help it. -
Agnes.
[After a moments 2^(^use.~\ I am not the lady
these people w^ere speaking of yesterday.
Gertrude.
Not ? —
Agnes.
Mr. Cleeve is no longer with his wife ; he has
left her.
Gertrude.
Left — his wife !
Agnes.
Like yourself, I am a widow. I don't know
whether you've ever heard my name — Ebbsmith.
[Gertrude stares at her blankly.'] I beg your
pardon sincerely. I never meant to conceal my
true position ; such a course is opposed to every
principle of mine. But 1 grew so attached to
28 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
you in Florence and — well, it was contemptibly
weak ; I'll never do such a thing again.
\_She (joes hack to the table and commences
to refill the vase with the fresh fiowers.
Gertrude.
When you say that Mr. Cleeve has left his wife,
1 suppose you mean to tell me you have taken her
place ?
Agnes.
Yes, I mean that.
[Gertrude rises and walks to the door.
Gertrude.
\_At the door.~\ You knew that I could not
speak to you again after hearing this ?
Agnes.
I thought it almost certain you would not.
\_After a moment'' s irresolution, Gertrude
returns, and stands by the settee.
Gertrude.
I can hardly believe you.
Agnes.
I should like you to hear more than just the
bare facts.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 29
Gertrude.
\_Drumming on the hack of the settee.~\ Why
don't you tell nie more ?
Agnes.
You were going, you know.
Gertrude.
[_Sitting.~\ I won't go quite like that. Please
tell me.
Agnes.
\_CalmJy.'] AVell, did you ever read of John
Thorold — '^ Jack Thorold, the demagogue " ?
[Gertrude shakes her ]iead.~\ I daresay not.
John Thorold, once a school-master, was my
father. In my time he used to write for the two
or three so-called inflammatory journals, and hold
forth in small lecture halls, occasionally even from
the top of a wooden stool in the Park, upon trade
and labour questions, division of wealth, and the
rest of it. He believed in nothing that people
who go to church are credited with believing in,
Mrs. Thorpe ; his scheme for the re-adjustment of
things was Force, his pet doctrine the ultimate
healthy healing that follows the surgery of revolu-
tion. But to me he was the gentlest creature im-
aginable ; and I was very fond of him, in spite of
his — as I then thought — strange ideas. Strange
ideas ! Hah, many of 'em luckily don't sound
quite so irrational to-day !
30 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH,
Gertrude.
[ Under her breath.'] Oh ! —
Agnes.
My home was a wretched one. If dad was
violent out of the house, mother was violent
enough in it; with her it was rave, sulk, storm,
from morning till night ; till one day father turned
a deaf ear to mother and died in his bed. That
was my first intimate experience of the horrible
curse that falls upon so many.
Gertrude.
Curse ?
Agnes.
The curse of unhappy marriage. Though really
I'd looked on at little else all my life. Most of
our married friends were cursed in a like way ;
and I remember taking an oath, when I was a mere
child, that nothing should ever push me over into
the choked-up, seething pit. Fool ! When I was
nineteen I was gazing like a pet sheep into a man's
eyes ; and one morning I was married, at St.
Andrew's Church in Holborn, to Mr. Ebbsmith, a
barrister.
Gertrude.
In church ?
Agnes.
Yes, in church — in church. In spite of father's
unbelief and mother's indifference, at the time I
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 31
married I was as simple — ay, in my heart as
devout — as any girl in a parsonage. The other
thing hadn't soaked into me. Whenever I could
escape from our stifling rooms at home, and slam
the front door behind me, the air blew away un-
certainty and scepticism ; I seemed only to have
to take a long, deep breath to be full of hope and
faith. And it was like this till that man married
me.
Gertrude.
Of course, I guess your marriage was an un-
fortunate one.
Agnes.
It lasted eight years. For about twelve months
he treated me like a woman in a harem, for the
rest of the time like a beast of burden. Oh ! when
I think of it ! [ Wipinc) her broiu ivith her hand-
kerchief.'\ Phew !
Gertrude.
It changed you ?
Agnes.
Oh, yes, it changed me.
Gertrude.
You spoke of yourself just now as a widow.
He's dead ?
Agnes.
He died on our wedding-day — the eighth anni-
versary.
32 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH
Gertrude.
You were free then — free to begin again.
Agnes.
Eh ? \_Loohing at Gertrude.] Yes, but you
don't begin to believe all over again. \_She gathers
up the stalks of the fiowers froTYi the tray, and,
hneelmg, crams them into the stove.'\ However,
this is an old story. I'm thirty-three now.
Gertrude.
{Hesitatingly r^ You and Mr. Cleeve ? —
Agnes.
We've known each other since last November,
no longer. Six years of my life unaccounted for,
eh ? Well, for a couple of years or so I was
lecturing.
Gertrude.
Lecturing ?
Agnes.
Ah, I'd become an out-and-out child of my
father by that time — spouting perhaps you'd call
it, standing on the identical little platforms he used
to speak from, lashing abuses with my tongue as
he had done. Oh, and I was fond, too, of warning
women.
Gertrude.
Against what ?
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 33
Agnes.
Falling into the pit.
Gertrude.
Marriage ?
Agnes.
The choked-up, seething pit — until I found my
bones almost through my skin, and my voice too
weak to travel across a room.
Gertrude.
From what cause ?
Agnes.
Starvation, my dear. So, after lying in a hos-
pital for a month or two, I took up nursing for
a living. Last November I was sent for by Dr.
Bickerstaff to go through to Rome to look after
a young man who'd broken down there ; and who
declined to send for his friends. My patient was
Mr. Cleeve — [taking njy the timy'] and that's
where his fortunes join mine.
\_She crosses the room and x>uts the tray
upon the cabinet.
Gertrude.
And yet, judging from what that girl said yes-
terday, Mr. Cleeve married quite recently ?
34 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Agxes.
Less than three years ago. Men don't suffer as
patiently as women. In many respects his mar-
riage story is my own reversed — the man in place
of the woman. I endured my hell, though ; he
broke the gates of his.
Gertrude.
I have often seen Mr. Cleeve's name in the
papers. His future promised to be brilliant,
didn't it ?
Agnes.
\_Tidi/in(j the table, folding the newspapers, etc.']
There's a great career for him still.
Gertrude.
In Parliament — noiv ?
Agxes.
No; he abandons that and devotes himself to
writing. We shall write much together, urging
our views on this subject of Marriage. We shall
have to be poor, I expect, but we shall be content.
Gertrude.
Content !
Agnes.
Quite content. Don't judge us by my one piece
of cowardly folly in keeping the truth from you,
Mrs. Thorpe. Indeed, it's our great plan to live
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 35
the life we have mapped out for ourselves, fear-
lessly, openly; faithful to each other, helpful to
each other, for as long as we remain together.
Gertrude.
But tell me — you don't know how ^ — how I
have liked you ! — tell me, if Mr. Cleeve's wife
divorces him he will marry you ?
Agnes.
No.
Gertrude
No!
Agnes.
No. I haven't made you quite understand —
Lucas and I don't desire to marry, in your sense.
Gertrude.
But you are devoted to each other !
Agnes.
Thoroughly.
Gertrude.
What, is that the meaning of "for as long as
you are together " ! You would go your different
ways if ever you found that one of you was mak-
ing the other unhappy ?
Agnes.
I do mean that. We remain together only to
36 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
help, to heal, to console. Why should men and
women be so eager to grant to each other the
power of wasting life ? That is what marriage
gives — the right to destroy years and years of
life. And the right once given, it attracts, at-
tracts ! We have both suffered from it. So
many rich years of my life have been squandered
by it. And out of his life, so much force, energy
— spent in battling with the shrew, the termagant
he has now fled from ; strength never to be replen-
ished, never to be repaid — all wasted, wasted !
Gertkude.
Your legal marriage with him might not bring
further miseries.
Agnes.
Too late ! AVe have done with Marriage ; we
distrust it. We are not now among those who
regard Marriage as indispensable to union. We
have done with it !
Gertrude.
^Advancing to her.'\ You know, it would be
impossible for me, if I would do so, to deceive
my brother as to all this.
Agnes.
Why, of course, dear.
Gertrude.
\_Lookmg at her watch.'] Amos must be won-
dering —
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 37
Agnes.
E-un away, then.
[Gertrude crosses quickly towards the
door.
Gertrude.
\_Ret7'acing a ste}) or tivo.l Shall I see you ? —
Oh!
Agnes.
\_Shaki7ig her head.'] Ah !
Gertrude.
\_Going to her constrainedly.'] When Amos and
I have talked this over, perhaps — perhaps —
Agnes.
No, no, I fear not. Come, my dear friend,
\_with a S7nile] give me a shake of the hand.
Gertrude.
« \^Taki7ig her hand.] What you've told me is
dreadful. [Looking into Agnes's face.] And yet
you're not a Avicked woman! [^Kissing Agnes.]
In case we don't meet again.
\_The ivomen separate quickly., looking
toivards the door as Lucas enters.
Lucas.
\_Shaking hands ivith Gertrude.] How do you
38 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
do, Mrs. Thorpe ? I've just had a wave of the
hand from your brother.
Gertrude.
Where is he ?
Lucas.
On his back in a gondola, a pipe in his mouth
as usual, gazing skywards. \_Golng on to the bal-
cony.'] He's within hail.
[Gertrude goes quickbj to the door ^ fol-
lowed by Agxes.
Lucas.
There ! by the Palazzo Sfoi za.
\_He re-enters the room ; Gertrude has
disappeared.
Lucas.
\^Going towards the door.] Let me get hold of
him, Mrs. Thorpe.
Agnes.
[Standing before Lucas, quietly.] She knows,
Lucas, dear.
Lucas.
Does she ?
Agnes.
She overheard some gossip at the Caffe Quadria
yesterday, and began questioning me, so I told
her.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 39
Lucas.
\_Tahing off his coat.~\ Adieu to them, then,
eh?
Agnes.
\_Assisting him.~\ Adieu.
Lucas.
I intended to write to the brother directly they
had left Venice, to explain.
Agnes.
Your describing me as '^ Mrs. Cleeve " at the
hotel in Florence helped to lead us into this ; after
we move from here, I must always be, frankly,
'' Mrs. Ebbsmith."
Lucas.
These were decent people. You and she had
formed quite an attachment.
Agnes.
Yes.
\_She places his coat, etc., on a chair, then
fetches her work-basket from the cab-
inet.
Lucas.
There's something of the man in your nature,
Agnes.
40 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Agnes.
I've anathematized my womanhood often enough.
S^She sits at the table, taking out her ivork
coviposedly.
Lucas.
Not that every man possesses the power you
have acquired — the power of going through life
with compressed lips.
Agnes.
\_Loohing up sviiling.'\ Apropos?
Lucas.
These people — this woman you've been so fond
of. You see them shrink away with the utmost
composure.
Agnes.
\_Threadmg a needle.~\ You forget, dear, that
you and I have prepared ourselves for a good deal
of this sort of thing.
Lucas.
Certainly, but at the moment —
Agnes.
One must take care that the regret lasts no
longer than a moment. Have you seen your
uncle ?
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 41
Lucas.
A glimpse. He hadn't long risen.
Agnes.
He adds sluggishness to other vices, then ?
Lucas.
\_Lighting a cigarette.~\ He greeted me through
six inches of open door. His toilet has its mys-
teries.
Agnes.
A stormy interview ?
Lucas.
The reverse. He grasped my hand warmly, de-
clared I looked the picture of health, and said it
was evident I had been most admirably nursed.
Agnes.
[Froiiming.'] That's a strange utterance. But
he's an eccentric, isn't he ?
Lucas.
No man has ever been quite satisfied as to
whether his oddities are ingrained or affected.
Agnes.
No man. What about women ?
42 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Lucas.
Ho, tliey have had opportunities of closer ob-
servation.
Agnes.
Hah ! And they report ? —
Lucas.
Nothing. They become curiously reticent.
Agxes.
[^Scornfully, as she is cutting a thread.'] These
noblemen !
Lucas.
[Taking a packet of letters from his j^ocket.]
Finally he presented me with these, expressed a
hope that he'd see much of me during the week,
and dismissed me Avitli a fervent God bless you.
Agnes.
[Surprised.'] He remains here then ?
Lucas.
It seems so.
Agnes.
What are those, dear ?
Lucas.
The duke has made himself the bearer of some
letters from friends. I've only glanced at them —
reproaches — appeals —
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 43
Agnes.
Yes, I understand.
\_He sits looking through the letters im-
patientl , then tearirig them nj^ and
throivin the jneees upon the table.
Lucas.
Lord Warminster — my godfather. '^ My clear
boy. For God's sake ! " — \_Tearing up the letter
and reading another.'] Sir Charles Littlecote.
" Your brilliant future . . . blasted. ..." [^4;^-
other letter.] Lord Froom. " Promise of a use-
ful political career unfulfilled . . . cannot an old
friend . . . ? '' ^Another letter.] Edith Heytes-
bury. I didn't notice a woman had honoured me.
[//i an undertone.] Edie ! — \_Slipping the letter
into his pocket and opening another.] Jack
Brophy. " Your great career " — Major Leete.
" Your career " — \_Destroying the rest of the let-
ters without reading them..] My career! my
career ! That's the chorus, evidently. Well,
there goes my career!
\^She lays her work aside and goes to him.
Agnes.
Your career ? \_Pointing to the destroyed let-
ters.] True, that one is over. But there's the
other, you know — ours.
Lucas.
\_Toucliing her hand.] Yes, yes. Still, it's just
44 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
a little saddening, the saying good-by [disturbing
the scraps of paper'] to all this.
Agnes.
Saddening, dear ? Why, this political career of
yours — think what it would have been at best !
Accident of birth sent you to the wrong side of
the House, influence of family would always have
kept you there.
Lucas.
[Partly to himself.'] But I made my mark. I
did make my mark.
Agnes.
Supporting the Party that retards ; the Party
that preserves for the rich, palters with the poor.
[Pointing to the letter again.] Oh, there's not
much to mourn for there
Lucas.
Still it was — success.
Agnes.
Success !
Lucas.
I was talked about, written about, as a Coming
Man — the Coming Man !
Agnes.
How many "coming men" has one known!
Where on earth do they all go to ?
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 45
Lucas.
Ah, yes, but I allowed for the failures and care-
fully set myself to discover the causes of them.
And, as I put my finger upon the causes and ex-
amined them, I congratulated myself and said,
"Well, I haven't that weak point in my armour,
or that ; " and, Agnes, at last I was fool enough
to imagine I had no weak point, none whatever.
Agnes.
It was weak enough to believe that.
Lucas.
I couldn't foresee that I was doomed to pay the
price all nervous men pay for success ; that the
greater my success became, the more cancer-like
grew the fear of never being able to continue it,
to excel it ; that the triumph of to-day was always
to be the torture of to-morrow ! Oh, Agnes, the
agony of success to a nervous, sensitive man ; the
dismal apprehension that fills his life and gives
each victory a voice to cry out, " Hear, hear !
Bravo, bravo, bravo ! but this is to be your last —
you'll never overtop it ! '' Ha, yes ! I soon found
out the weak spot in my armour — the need of
constant encouragement, constant reminder of my
powers ; [taking her hand'] the need of that
subtle sympathy which a sacrificing, unselfish
woman alone possesses the secret of. lBisi?ig.]
Well, my very weakness might have been a source
of greatness if, three years ago, it had been to such
46 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
a woman that I had bound myself — a woman of
your disposition ; instead of to ! — Ah ! —
\_Sh6 lays her hand upon his arm soothingly.
Lucas.
Yes, yes, [taking her in his arms.~\ I know 1
have such a companion now.
Agnes.
Yes — now —
Lucas.
You must be everything to me, Agnes — a
double faculty, as it were. AVhen my confidence
in myself is shaken, you must try to keep the con-
sciousness of my poor powers alive in me.
Agnes.
I shall not fail you in that, Lucas.
Lucas.
And yet, whenever disturbing recollections come
uppermost, when I catch myself mourning for
those lost opportunities of mine ; it is your love
that must grant me oblivion — [kissing her iqwn
the Iq^s'] your love !
[She makes 7w 7'es2J07ise, and, after a
pause, gently releases herself and re-
treats a step or two.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 47
Lucas.
[His eyes following her.] Agnes, you seem to
be changing towards me, growing colder to me.
At times you seem to positively shrink from me.
I don't understand it. Yesterday I thought I saw
you look at me as if I — frightened you !
Agnes.
Lucas — Lucas dear, for some weeks, now, I've
wanted to say this to you.
Lucas.
What ?
Agnes.
Don't you think that such a union as ours would
be much braver, much more truly courageous, if it
could but be — be —
Lucas.
If it could but be — what ?
Agnes.
[Averting her eijes.] Devoid of passion, if pas-
sion had no share in it.
Lucas.
Surely this comes a little late, Agnes, between
you and me.
Agnes.
[Leaning upon the lack of a chair, staring before
48 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Jier, and speaking in a low, steady voice.'] What
has been was inevitable, I suppose. Still, we have
hardly yet set foot upon the path we've agreed to
follow. It is not too late for us, in our own lives,
to put the highest interpretation upon that word
— Love. Think of the inner sustaining power it
would give us ! [_More forcihly.'] We agree to go
through the world together, preaching the lessons
taught us by our experiences. We cry out to all
people, " Look at us ! Man and woman who are in
the bondage of neither law nor ritual ! Linked
simply by mutual trust ! Man and wife, but some-
thing better than man and wife ! Friends, but
even something better than friends ! " I say there
is that which is noble, finely defiant, in the future
we have mapped out for ourselves, if only — if
only —
Lucas.
Yes!
Agnes.
\_Tur7iin(j from him.'] If only it could be free
from passion !
Lucas.
\_In a loiv voice.] Yes, but — is that possible ?
Agnes.
\_In the same tone, ivatching him askance, a
frightened look in her eyes.] Why not ?
Lucas.
Young man and woman . . . youth and love
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 49
. . . ? Scarcely upon this earth, my dear Agnes,
such a life as you have pictured.
Agnes.
I say it can be, it can be ! —
[Fortune enters, carrying a letter, upon
a salver, and a beautiful houquet of
tvhite flowers. He hands the note to
Lucas.
Lucas.
\Taking the note, glancing at Agnes.] Eh !
\_To Fortune, poiiiting to the bouquet.^ Qu'avez-
vous la ?
Fortune.
Ah, excuse. [Presenting the bouquet to Agnes.]
Wiz compliment. [Agnes takes the bouquet won-
deringhj.\ Tell Madame ze Duke of St. Olpherts
bring it in person, 'e says.
Lucas.
\Opening the note.'\ Est-il parti?
Fortune.
'E did not get out of 'is gondola.
Lucas.
Bien. [Fortune withdraws. Reading the note
aloud.~\ " While brushing my hair, my dear boy,
I became possessed of a strong desire to meet the
50 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
lady with whom you are now improving the shin-
ing hour. Why the devil shouldn't I, if I want
to ! AVithout prejudice, as my lawyer says, let me
turn-up this afternoon and chat pleasantly to her
of Shakespeare, also the musical glasses. Pray
hand her this flag of truce — I mean my poor
bunch of flowers — and believe me yours, with a
touch of gout, St. Olpherts." \_Indignantly crush-
ing the note.~\ Ah !
Agnes.
\_Froioning at the floivers.'] A taste of the oddi-
ties, I suppose !
Lucas.
He is simply making sport of us. \_Going on to
the balcony, and looking out.'] There he is. Damn
that smile of his !
Agnes.
Where? \_She joins him. 1
Lucas.
With the two gondoliers.
Agnes.
Why — that's a beautiful face ! How strange !
Lucas.
\_Draiving her back into the roo7n.~\ Come away.
He is looking up at us.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS EBBSMITH. 51
Agnes.
Are you sure he sees us ?
Lucas.
He did.
Agnes.
He will want an answer —
\_She deliberately flings the hoiiquet over
the balcony into the canal, then returns
to the table and picks up her work.
Lucas.
\_Looking out again cautiously.~\ He throws his
head back and laughs heartily. \_Re-entering the
7'oom.~\ Oh, of course, his policy is to attempt to
laugh me out of my resolves. They send him here
merely to laugh at me, Agnes, to laugh at me —
[^coming to Agnes angriJy~\ laugh at me !
Agnes.
He must be a man of small resources. [Thread-
ing her needle.'] It is so easy to mock.
END OF THE FIRST ACT.
52 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
THE SECOND ACT.
The scene is the same as that of the previous act.
Through the windoivs some mastheads and
jiaj)j)ing sails are seen in the distance. The
light is that of late afternoon.
Agnes, very plainly dressed^ is sitting at the table,
industriously copying from a manuscrij^t. After
a moment or two, Antonio and. Nella enter
the room, carrying a dressmahey^'' s box ivhich is
corded and labelled.
Nella.
E permesso, Signora. (Permit us, Signora.)
Antonio.
Uno scatolone per la Signora. (An enormous
box for the Signora.)
Agnes.
\_T liming her head.'] Eh?
Nella.
E venuto colla ferrovia — (It has come by the
railway — )
Antonio.
[^Consulting the label.] Da Firenze. (From
Florence.)
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 53
Agnes.
By railway, from Florence ?
ISTella.
[Reading from the label. ^ "Emilia Bardini,
Via Eondinelli."
Agnes.
Bardini ? That's the dressmaker. There must
be some mistake. Non e per me, Nella. (It isn't
for me.)
[Antonio a7id ISTella carry the box to her
aiihiiatedly.
Nella.
Ma guardi, Signora ! (But look, Signora !)
Antonio.
Alia Signora Cleeve !
Nella.
E poi abbiamo pagato il porto della ferrovia.
(Besides, we have paid the railway dues upon it.)
Agnes.
\_Collecting her sheets of paper. ~\ Hush, hush!
don't trouble me just now. Mettez-la, n'importe
ou. \_They place the box on another table.
Nella.
La corda intaccherebbe la forbice della Signora.
54 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
A^iiole che Antonio la tagli ? (The cord would
blunt the Signora's scissors. Shall Antonio cut
the cord ? )
Agnes.
\F inning lier sheets of jpai^er together. '\ I'll see
about it by and by. Laissez-moi !
Nella.
[Softly to Antonio.] Taglia, taglia ! (Cut,
cut !)
[Antonio produces a knife and cuts the
cord, whereupon Nella utters a little
scream.
Agnes.
\_Tiirning, startled.^ What is it?
Nella.
[Pushing Antonio away.^ Questo stupido non
ha capito la Signora e ha tagliata la corda. (The
stupid fellow misunderstood the Signora and has
severed the cord.)
Agnes.
[Eising.^ It doesn't matter. Be quiet!
Nella.
[Removing the lid from the box angrily.'] Ed
ecco la scatola aperta contro voglia della Signora !
(And now here is the box open against the
Signora's wish ! ) [Inquisitively pushing aside the
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 55
paper ivh'ich covers the contents of the box.'] Oh,
Dio ! Si vede tiitto quel die vi e ! (Oh, God, and
all the contents exposed ! )
[ Whe7i the paper is removed, some beauti-
ful material trimmed ivith lace, etc.f
is seen.
Nella.
Gnardi, guardi, Signora ! (Signora, look, look ! )
[Agnes examines the contents of the box with a
pjuzzled air.'\ Oh, che bellezza ! (How beautiful !)
[Lucas enters.
Antonio.
[To Nella.] II padrone. (The master.)
[Nella courtesies to Lucas, then ivlth-
draius tuith Antonio.
Agnes.
Lucas, the dressmaker in the Via Rondinelli at
Florence — the woman who ran up the little gown
I have on now —
Lucas.
[ With a smile.'] What of her ?
Agnes.
This has just come from her. Phuh ! What
does she mean by sending the showy thing to me ?
Lucas.
It is my gift to you.
56 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Agnes.
[Producing enough of the contents of the box to
reveal a very handsome dress.'] This !
Lucas.
I knew Bardini had your measurements; I wrote
to her instructing her to make that. I remember
Lady Heytesbury in something similar last season.
Agnes.
[Examining the dress.] A mere strap for the
sleeve, and sufficiently decolletee, I should imagine.
Lucas.
My dear Agnes, I can't understand your reason
for trying to make yourself a plain-looking woman
when nature intended you for a i^retty one.
Agnes.
Pretty !
Lucas.
[Looking hard at her.] You are pretty.
Agnes.
Oh, as a girl I may have been [disdainfidly]
pretty. What good did it do anybody ? [Finger-
ing the dressmnth aversion.] And when would you
have me hang this on my bones ?
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 57
Lucas.
Oh, when we are dining, or —
Agnes.
Dining in a public place ?
Lucas.
Why not look your best in a public place ?
Agnes.
Look my best ! You know, I don't think of this
sort of garment in connection with our companion-
ship, Lucas.
Lucas.
It is not an extraordinary garment for a lady.
Agnes.
Eustle of silk, glare of arms and throat — they
belong, in my mind, to such a very different order
of things from that we have set up.
Lucas.
Shall I appear before you in ill-made clothes,
clumsy boots —
Agnes.
Why ? We are just as we always have been,
since we've been together. I don't tell you that
your appearance is beginning to offend.
58 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Lucas.
Offend ! Agnes, you — you pain me. I simply
fail to understand why you should allow our mode
of life to condemn you to perpetual slovenliness.
Agnes.
Slovenliness !
Lucas.
No, no, shabbiness.
Agnes.
\_Looking down upon the dress she is wearing.~\
Shabbiness !
Lucas.
[With a laugh.~\ Forgive me, dear ; I'm forget-
ting you are wearing a comparatively new after-
noon gown.
Agnes.
At any rate, I'll make this brighter to-morrow
with some trimmings, willingly. \_Pointing to the
drcss7naJcers box.^ Then you won't insist on my
decking myself out in rags of that kind, eh ?
There's something in the idea — I needn't explain.
Lucas.
[Fretfiillg.^ Insist ! I'll not urge you again.
[Pointing to the hox.~\ Get rid of it somehow.
Are you copying that manuscript of mine ?
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 59
Agnes.
I had just finished it.
Lucas.
Already ! \_Taking up her coj??/.^ How beauti-
fully you write ! [Goinr/ to her eagerly.'] What
do you think of my Essay ?
Agnes.
The subject bristles with truth ; it's vital.
Lucas.
My method of treating it ?
Agnes.
Hardly a word out of place.
Lucas.
\_Chilled.~\ Hardlf/ di, \YOTd?
Agnes.
Not a word, in fact.
Lucas.
No, dear, I daresay your ^' hardly " is nearer
the mark.
Agnes.
I assure you it is brilliant, Lucas.
6o THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Lucas.
What a wretch I am ever to find the smallest
fault in you ! Shall we dine out to-night ?
Agnes.
As you wish, dear.
Lucas.
At the Griinwald ? \_He goes to the table to pick
up his inanuscriid ; ichen his hack is turned she
looks at her watch quickly.'] We'll solemnly toast
this, shall we, in Montefiascone ?
Agnes.
\_Eyei7ig him askance.'] You are going out for
your chocolate this afternoon as usual, I suppose ?
Lucas.
Yes; but I'll look through your copy first, so
that I can slip it into the post at once. You are
not coming out ?
Agnes.
Not till dinner-time.
Lucas.
\_Kissing her on the forehead.] I talked over
the points of this [tnj^jnng the manuscript] with a
man this morning ; he praised some of the phrases
warmly.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 6i
Agnes.
A man ? \_In an altered tone.~\ The duke ?
Lucas.
Er — yes.
Agnes.
[ With assumed indifference, replacing the lid on
the dressmaker^ s box.'] You have seen him again
to-day, then ?
Lucas.
We strolled about together for half an hour on
the Piazza.
Agnes.
[Replacing the cord round the hox.'\ You — you
don't dislike him as much as you did ?
Lucas.
He's somebody to chat to. I suppose one gets
accustomed even to a man one dislikes.
Agnes.
\_Almost inaudihly.'] I suppose so.
Lucas.
As a matter of fact, he has the reputation of
being rather a pleasant companion ; though I — I
•'confess — I — I don't find him very entertaining.
[^He goes out. She stands staring at the
door through which he has disappeared.
There is a knock at the opjjosite door.
62 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Agnes.
\_Rousing herself. ~\ Fortune ! \_Raising her
voice.'] Fortune !
\_TlLe door opens and Gertrude enters
hurriedly.
Gertrude.
Fortune is complacently smoking a cigarette in
the Campo.
Agnes.
Mrs. Thorpe !
Gertrude.
\_Breathlessly.'] Mr. Cleeve is out, I conclude ?
Agnes.
No. He is later than usual going out this after-
noon.
Gertrude.
\_Ir resolutely.'] I don't think I'll wait then.
Agnes.
But do tell me — you have been crossing the
streets to avoid me during the past week — what
has made you come to see me now ?
Gertrude.
I icould come. I've given poor Amos the slip ;
he believes I'm buying beads for the Ketheriek
school-children.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 63
Agnes.
* \_Shaking her head.~\ Ah, Mrs. Thorpe ! —
Gertrude.
Of course, it's perfectly brutal to be under-
handed. But we're leaving for home to-morrow ;
I couldn't resist it.
Agnes.
\_Coldly.~\ Perhaps I'm very ungracious —
Gertrude.
[^Taki7ig Agnes 's hand.'] The fact is, Mrs.
Cleeve — oh, what do you wish me to call you ?
Agnes.
[ JVithdraiving her hand.] Well, you're off to-
morrow. Agnes will do.
Gertrude.
Thank you. The fact is, it's been a bad week
with me — restless, fanciful. And I haven't been
able to get you out of my head.
Agnes.
I'm sorry.
Gertrude.
Your story, your present life ; you, yourself —
such a contradiction to what you profess ! — well,
it all has a sort of fascination for me.
64 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Agnes.
My dear, you're simply not sleeping again.
\_Turning aivay.~\ You'd better go back to the
ammonia Kirke prescribed for you.
Gertrude.
[Taking a card from her purse, with a little
light laugh.'] You want to physic me, do you,
after worrying my poor brain as you've done ?
\_Going to her.] ''The Rectory, Daleham, Keth-
erick Moor." Yorkshire, you know. There can
be no great harm in your writing to me sometimes.
Agnes.
\_Ref using the card.] No ; under the circum-
stances I can't promise that.
Gertrude.
[ Wistfully.] Very well.
Agnes.
[Facing her.] Oh, can't you understand that it
can only be — disturbing to both of us for an im-
pulsive, emotional creature like yourself to keep
up acquaintanceship with a woman who takes life
as I do ? We'll drop each other, leave each other
alone.
[_She walks away, ami stands leaning upon
the stove, her back toivards Gertrude.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 65
Gertrude.
\_Replacing the card in her purse.^ As you
please. Picture me, sometimes, in that big, hol-
low shell of a rectory at Ketherick, strolling about
my poor dead little chap's empty room.
Agnes.
[^Under her breath.'] Oh !
Gertrude.
\_T'mming to go.] God bless you.
Agnes.
Gertrude ! [ With altered manner.'] You — you
have the trick of making me lonely also. \_Go-
ing to Gertrude, taking her hands, and fondling
them.] I'm tired of talking to the walls ! And
your blood is warm to me ! Shall I tell you, or
not — or not ?
Gertrude.
Do tell me.
Agnes.
There is a man here, in Venice, who is torturing
me — flaying me alive.
Gertrude
Torturing you ?
Agnes.
He came here about a week ago ; he is trying to
separate us.
66 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH.
Gertrude.
You and Mr. Cleeve ?
Agnes.
Yes.
Gertrude.
You are afraid he will succeed ?
Agnes.
Succeed ! What nonsense you talk !
Gertrude.
What upsets you then ?
Agnes.
After all, it's difficult to explain — the feeling is
so indefinite. It's like — something in the air.
This man is influencing us both oddly. Lucas is as
near illness again as possible ; I can liear his nerves
vibrating. And I — you know what a fish-like
thing I am as a rule — just look at me now, as I'm
speaking to you.
Gertrude.
But don't you and Mr. Cleeve — talk to each
other ?
Agnes.
As children do when the lights are put out — of
everything but what's uppermost in their minds.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 67
Gertrude.
You have met the man ?
Agnes.
I intend to meet him.
Gertrude.
Who is he ?
Agnes.
A relation of Lucas's — the Duke of St. Olpherts.
Gertrude.
He has right on his side then?
Agnes.
If you choose to think so.
Gertrude.
\_Deliberately.'] Supposing he does succeed in
taking Mr. Cleeve away from you ?
Agnes.
[^Staring at Gertrude.] What, iioiv, do you
mean ?
Gertrude.
Yes.
\_There is a brief pause ; tiien Agnes walks
across the room wiping her brow ivith her
handkerchief.
68 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Agnes.
I tell you, that idea's — preposterous.
Gertrude.
Oh, I can't understand you !
Agnes.
You'll respect my confidence ?
Gertrude.
Agnes !
Agnes.
\_Sitthig .'\ Well, I fancy this man's presence
here has simply started me thinking of a time —
oh, it may never come ! — a time when I may cease
to be — necessary to Mr. Cleeve. Do you under-
stand ?
Gertrude.
I remember what you told me of your being
prepared to grant each other freedom if —
Agnes.
Yes, yes — and for the past few days this idea
has filled me with a fear of the most humiliating
kind.
Gertrude.
What fear ?
Agnes.
The fear lest, after all my beliefs and protesta-
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH, 69
tions, I should eventually find myself loving Lucas
in the helpless, common way of women —
Gertrude.
\XJnder herbreath.~\ I see.
Agnes.
The dread that the moment may arrive some day
when, should it be required of me, / shcciiH feel
myseJf able to give him up easilij. \_Her head droop-
ing, uttering a low i)ioan.~\ Oh! —
[Lucas, dressed for going out, enters,
carrying Agnes's copy of his manu-
script, rolled and addressed for the post.
Agnes rises.
Agnes.
[To Lucas.] Mrs. Thorpe starts for home to-
morrow ; she has called to say good-by.
Lucas.
[_To Gertrude.] It is very kind. Is your good
brother quite well ?
Gertrude.
\_Embarrassed.'] Thanks, quite.
Lucas.
\Sniiling.'\ I believe I have added to his expe-
70 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMTTH.
rience of the obscure corners of Venice, during the
past week.
Gertrude.
I — I don't— Why?
Lucas.
By so frequently putting him to the inconven-
ience of avoiding me.
Gertrude.
Oh, Mr. Cleeve, we — I — I —
Lucas.
Please tell your brother I asked after him.
Gertrude.
I — I can't ; he — doesn't know I've — I've —
Lucas.
Ah ! really ? [ With a how.'] Good-by.
\He goes out, Agnes accompanying him to
the door.
Gertrude.
[To herself.'] Brute! \_To Agnes.] Oh, I
suppose Mr. Cleeve has made me look precisely
as I feel.
Agnes.
How?
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 71
Gertrude
Like people deserve to feel, who do godly, mean
things. [Fortune appears.
Fortune.
[To Agnes, significantly .'\ Mr. Cleeve 'as jus'
gone out.
Agnes.
Vous savez, n'est-ce pas.
Fortune.
[^Glancing at Gertrude.] But Madame is now
engage.
Gertrude.
[To Agnes.] Oh, I am going.
Agnes.
\_To Gertrude.] Wait. \_Softly to her.] I
want 3^ou to hear this little comedy. Fortune shall
repeat my instructions. [To Fortune.] Les or-
dres que je vous ai donnes, repetez-les.
Fortune.
[Speaking in an undertone.'] On ze left 'and
side of ze Campo —
Agnes.
Non, non — tout haut.
72 THE NOTORIOUS MRS EBBSMITH.
Fortune.
\^Alo\id, ivith a slight shrug of the shoulders.']
On ze left 'and side of ze Campo —
Agnes.
Yes.
Fortune.
In one of ze doorways — between Fiorentini's
and ze leetle lamp shop ze — ze — h'm — ze per-
son.
Agnes.
Precisely. Depechez-vous. [Fortune hoivs and
retires.'] Fortune flatters himself he is engaged
in some horrid intrigue. You guess whom I am
expecting ?
Gertrude.
The duke ?
Agnes.
\_Ringing a hell.] I've written to him asking
him to call upon me this afternoon while Lucas is
at Florian's. ^Eeferriiig to her watch.] He is to
kick his heels about the Campo till I let him know
I am alone.
Gertrude.
Will he obey you
Agnes.
A week ago he was curious to see the sort of
animal I am. If he holds off now I'll hit upon
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBDSMITH. 73
some other plan. I will come to close quarters
with him, if only for five minutes.
Gertrude.
Good-by. \_They embrace, then ivalk together to
the door.'] You still refuse my address ?
Agnes.
You bat ! Didn't you see me make a note of it ?
Gertrude.
You!
Agnes.
[i/er ha7id on her heart.] Here.
Gertrude.
\_Gratefulbj.'] Ah! \_She goes out.
Agnes.
\_At the open door.] Gertrude !
Gertrude.
{^Outside.] Yes?
Agnes.
\In a low voice.] Remember, in my thoughts
I pace that lonely little room of yours with you.
\^As if to stojp Gertrude /romre-eTi^e?'/??*/.] Hush!
No, no.
\^She closes the door sharply. Nell A appears.
74 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Agnes.
\Pointing to the box 07i the tahle.~\ Portez ce
carton dans ma cliambre.
Nella.
\_Tryi7ig to peep into the box as she carries it.']
Signora, se Ella si mettesse questo magnifico abito !
Oh ! qiianto sarebbe piii bella ! (Signora, if you
were to wear this magnificent dress ! Oh ! how
much more beautiful you would be ! )
Agnes.
[Listening. ] Sssh ! Sssh ! [Nella goes out.
Fortune enters.] Eh, bien ?
[Fortune glances over his shoulder. The
Duke of St. Olpherts enters ; the
wreck of a very handsome man, with
delicate features, a transparent coni-
pjlexion, a polished nfianner, and a
smooth, weary voice. He limps, walk-
ing tvith the aid of a cane. Fortune
retires.
Agnes.
Duke of St. Olpherts ?
St. Olpherts.
[^Bowing.] Mrs. Ebbsmith?
Agnes.
Mr. Cleeve would have opposed this rather out-
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 75
of-the-way proceeding of mine. He doesn't know
I have asked you to call on me to-day.
St. Olpherts.
So I conclude. It gives our meeting a pleasant
air of adventure.
Agxes.
I shall tell him directly he returns.
St. Olpherts.
\_Gallanthj.~\ And destroy a cherished secret.
Agnes.
You are an invalid ; [inotioning him to he seated']
pray don't stand. \_Sitting.'] Your Grace is a
man who takes life lightly. It will relieve you to
hear that I wish to keep sentiment out of any busi-
ness we have together.
St. Olpherts.
I believe I haven't the reputation of being a
sentimental man. \_Seatlng himself.] You send
for me, Mrs. Ebbsmith —
Agnes.
To tell you I have come to regard the suggestion
you were good enough to make a week ago —
St. Olpherts.
Suggestion ?
76 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMTTH.
Agnes.
Shakespeare, the musical glasses, you know —
St. Olpherts.
Oh, yes. Ha ! ha !
Agnes.
I've come to think it a reasonable one. At the
moment I considered it a gross impertinence.
St. Olpherts.
Written requests are so dependent on a sympa-
thetic reader.
Agnes.
That meeting might have saved you time and
trouble.
St. Olpherts.
I grudge neither.
Agnes.
It might perhaps have shown your Grace that
your view of life is too narrow ; that your method
of dealing with its problems wants variety ; that,
in point of fact, your employment upon your
present mission is distinctly inappropriate. Our
meeting to-day may serve the same purpose.
St. Olpherts.
My view of life ?
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 77
Agnes.
That all men and women may safely be judged
by the standards of the casino and the dancing-
garden.
St. Olpherts.
I have found those standards not altogether un-
trustworthy. My method — ?
Agnes.
To scoff, to sneer, to ridicule.
St. Olpherts.
Ah ! And how much is there, my dear Mrs.
Ebbsmith, belonging to humanity that survives
being laughed at ?
Agnes.
More than you credit, duke. For example, I — •
I think it possible you may not succeed in grinning
away the compact between Mr. Cleeve and myself.
St. Olpherts.
Compact ?
Agnes.
Between serious man and woman.
St. Olpherts.
Serious woman.
Agnes.
Ah, at least you must see that — serious woman.
78 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
{Rising, facing him.'\ You can't fail to realize,
even from this slight personal knowledge of me,
that you are not dealing just now with some poor,
feeble ballet-girl.
St. Olpherts.
But how well you put it! \_Rising.'\ And how
frank of you to furnish, as it were, a plan of the
fortifications to the — the —
Agnes.
Why do you stick at '^ enemy " ?
St. Olpherts.
It's not the word. Opponent ! For the mo-
ment, perhaps, opponent. I am never an enemy,
I hope, where your sex is concerned.
Agnes.
No, I am aware that you are not overnice in
the bestowal of your patronage — where my sex
is concerned.
St. Olpherts.
You regard my appearance in an affair of morals
as a quaint one.
Agnes.
Your Grace is beginning to know me.
St. Olpherts.
Dear lady, you take pride, I hear, in belonging
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 79
to — The People. You would delight me amaz-
ingly by giving me an inkling of the popular
notion of my career.
Agnes.
\_Walklng away.~\ Excuse me.
St. Olpherts.
\_FoUoiinng her.'] Please ! It would be instruc-
tive, perhaps chastening. I entreat.
Agnes.
ISTo.
St. Olpherts.
You are letting sentiment intrude itself. \_Sit-
tingy in 2)idn.~\ I challenge you.
Agnes.
At Eton you were curiously precocious. The
head-master, referring to your aptitude with books,
prophesied a brilliant future for you ; your tutor,
alarmed by your attachment to a certain cottage
at Ascot which was minus a host, thanked his
stars to be rid of you. At Oxford you closed all
books, except, of course, betting-books.
St. Olpherts.
I detected the tendency of the age — scholarship
for the masses. I considered it my turn to be
merely intuitively intelligent.
So THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Agnes.
You left Oxford a gambler and spendthrift. A
year or two in town established you as an amia-
ble, undisguised debauchee. The rest is modern
history.
St. Olpherts.
Complete your sketch. Don't stop at the —
rude outline.
Agnes.
Your affairs falling into disorder, you promptly
married a w^ealthy woman — the poor, rich lady
who has for some years honoured you by being
your duchess at a distance. This burlesque of
marriage helped to reassure your friends, and
actually obtained for you an ornamental appoint-
ment for which an over-taxed nation provides a
handsome stipend. But, to sum up, you must
always remain an irritating source of uneasiness
to your own order, as, luckily, you will always be
a sharp-edged weapon in the hands of mine.
St. Olpherts.
\With a 'polite smile.'] Yours! Ah, to that
small, unruly section to which I understand you
particularly attach yourself. To the —
Agnes.
[ WitJi changed man7ier, flashing eyes, harsh voice,
and violent gestures.] The sufferers, the toilers ;
that great crowd of old and young — old and
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 8i
young stamped by excessive labour and privation
all of one pattern — whose backs bend under
burdens, whose bones ache and grow awry, whose
skins, in youth and in age, are wrinkled and yellow ;
those from whom a fair share of the earth's space
and of the light of day is withheld. \_Lookinrj
down upon him fiercehj.~\ The half-starved who
are bidden to stand with their feet in the kennel
to watch gay processions in which you and your
kind are borne high. Those who would strip the
robes from a dummy aristocracy and cast the
broken dolls into the limbo of a nation's discarded
toys. Those who — mark me ! — are already upon
the highway, marching, marching; whose time is
coming as surely as yours is going!
St. Olpherts.
\_Clapping his hands gently.'] Bravo! bravo!
Really a flash of the old fire. Admirable ! {^She
icalks away to the window with an impatient excla-
mation.] Your present affaire du cceur does not
wholly absorb you then, Mrs. Ebbsmith. Even
now the murmurings of love have not entirely
superseded the thunderous denunciations of
h'm — you once bore a nickname, my dear.
Agnes.
\_Turni7ig sharply.] Ho, so you've heard that,
have you !
St. Olpherts.
Oh, yes.
82 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH.
Agxes.
Mad — Agnes? \_He hojus deprGcatingly.~\ We
appear to have studied each other's history pretty
closely.
St. Olpherts.
Dear lady, this is not the first time the same
roof has covered us.
Agnes.
No?
St. Olpherts.
Five years ago, on a broiling night in July, I
joined a party of men who made an excursion
from a club-house in St. James's Street to the un-
savoury district of St. Luke's.
Agnes.
Oh, yes.
St. Olpherts.
A depressin' building; the Iron Hall, Barker
Street — no — Carter Street.
Agnes.
Precisely.
St. Olpherts.
We took our places amongst a handful of frowsy
folks who cracked nuts and blasphemed. On the
platform stood a gaunt, white-faced young lady
resolutely engaged in making up by extravagance
of gesture for the deficiencies of an exhausted
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 83
voice. " There," said one of my compauions,
^'tliat is the notorious Mrs. Ebbsmith." Upon
which a person near us, whom I judged from his
air of leaden laziness to be a British working man,
blurted out, " Notorious Mrs. Ebbsmith ! Mad Ag-
nes I That's the name her sanguinary friends give
her — Mad Agnes!" At that moment the eye of
the panting oratress caught mine for an instant
and you and I first met.
Agnes.
[^Passing her hand across her brow, thou(jhtfidlij.'\
Mad — Agnes . . . [To him, with a grim smile.^
We have both been criticised, in our time, pretty
sharply, eh, duke ?
St. Olpherts.
Yes. Let that reflection make you more chari-
table to a poor j)eer. [^ knock at the door.
Agnes.
Entrez !
[Fortune and Antonio enter, Antonio
carrying tea, etc., upon a tray.
Agnes.
[To St. Olpherts.] You drink tea — fellow-
sulferer ?
\He signifies assent. Y ortv :s e jylcices the
tray on the table, then withdraws luith
Antonio. Agnes ^j>o«rs out tea.
84 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
St. Olpherts.
\_Produci7ig a little box from his waistcoat pocket.']
No milk, dear lady. May I be allowed — saccha-
rine ?
\^She hands him his cup of tea ; their eyes 'meet.
Agnes.
\_Scor7fully.~\ Tell me now — really — why do
the Cleeves send a rip like you to do their serious
work ?
St. Olpherts.
[Laughing heartily.] Ha, ha, ha! Rip! ha,
ha ! Poor solemn family ! Oh, set a thief to
catch a thief, you know. That, I presume, is
their motive.
Agnes.
\_Pausing in the act of pouring out tea and star-
ing at him.] What do you mean ?
St. Olpherts.
[Sipping his tea.] Set a thief to catch a thief.
And, by deduction, set one sensualist who, after
all, doesn't take the trouble to deceive himself, to
rescue another who does.
Agnes.
If I understand you, that is an insinuation
against Mr. Cleeve.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 85
St. Olpherts.
Insinuation ! —
Agnes.
[^Looking at him fixedly. ~\ Make yourself clearer.
St. Olpherts.
You have accused me, Mrs. Ebbsmith, of nar-
rowness of outlook. In the present instance dear
lady, it is your judgment which is at fault.
Agnes.
Mine?
St. Olpherts.
It is not I who fall into the error of confounding
you with the designing danseuse of commerce ; it
is, strangely enough, you who have failed in your
estimate of Mr. Lucas Cleeve.
Agnes.
What is my estimate ?
St. Olpherts.
I pay you the compliment of believing that you
have looked upon my nephew as a talented young
gentleman whose future was seriously threatened by
domestic disorder ; a young man of a certain cour-
age and independence, with a share of the brain
and spirit of those terrible human pests called re-
formers; the one young gentleman, in fact, most
86 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSM/TH.
likely to aid you in advancing your vivacious social
and political tenets. You have had such thoughts
in your mind ?
Agnes.
I don't deny it.
St. Olpherts.
Ah ! But what is the real, the actual Lucas
Cleeve ?
Agnes.
Well — what is the real Lucas Cleeve ?
St. Olpherts.
Poor dear fellow! I'll tell you. \_Goin(j to the
table to deposit his cuj) titer c , while she watches
him, her hajids tiglitly clasped^ a frhjlitened look in
her eyes.~\ The real Lucas Cleeve. \_Coming hack
to her.'] An egoist. An egoist.
Agnes.
An egoist. Yes.
St. Olpherts.
Possessing ambition without patience, self-
esteem without self-confidence.
Agnes.
Well?
St. Olpherts.
Afflicted with a desperate craving for the opium
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. Z^
like drug, adulation ; persistently seeking the so-
ciety of those whose white, pink-tipped fingers fill
the pernicious pipe most deftly and delicately.
Eh?
Agnes.
I didn't — Pray go on.
St. Olpherts.
Ha, I remember they looked to his marriage to
check his dangerous fancy for the flutter of lace,
the purr of pretty women. And now, here he is —
loose again.
Agnes.
[ Suffe r inrj. ] Oh! —
St. Olpherts.
In short, in intellect still nothing but a callow
boy ; in body, nervous, bloodless, hysterical ; in
morals — an Epicure.
Agnes.
Have done ! Have done !
St. Olpherts.
" Epicure " offends you. A vain woman would
find consolation in the word.
Agnes.
Enough of it ! Enough ! Enough !
\_She turns away, beating her hands to-
gether. The light in the room has
88 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
gradually become subdued ; the icarm
tinge of sunset now colours the scene
outside the ivindows.
St. Olpherts.
[With a shrug of his shoulders.'] The real
Lucas Cleeve.
Agnes.
No, no ! untrue ! untrue ! [Lucas enters. The
three reiriain silent for a moment.'] The Duke of
St. Olpherts calls in answer to a letter I wrote to
him yesterday. I wanted to make his acquaint-
ance. \_She goes out.
Lucas.
[After a brief pause.] By a lucky accident the
tables were crowded at Florian's ; I might have
missed the chance of welcoming you. In God's
name, duke, why must you come here ?
St. Olpherts.
\_Fumbling in his pockets for a note.] In God's
name ? You bring the orthodoxy into this queer
firm then, Lucas ? \_Handing the note to Lucas.]
A peremptory summons.
Lucas.
You need not have obeyed it. [St. Olpherts
takes a cigarette from his case and limps away.]
I looked about for you just now. I wanted to see
you.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 89
St. Olpherts.
[Lightinf/ the cigarette.'] How fortunate ! —
Lucas.
To tell you that this persecution must come to
an end. It has made me desperately wretched for
a whole week.
St. Olpherts.
Persecution ?
Temptation.
Lucas.
St. Olpherts.
Dear Lucas, the process of inducing a man to
return to his wife isn't generally described as
temptation.
Lucas.
Ah, I won't hear another word of that proposal.
[St. Olpherts shrugs his shoulders.] I say my
people are offering me, through you, a deliberate
temptation to be a traitor. To which of these two
women — my wife or \_pointing to the door] to her
— am I really bound now ? It may be regrettable,
scandalous, but the common rules of right and
wrong have ceased to apply here. Finally, duke
— and this is my message — I intend to keep faith
with the woman who sat by my bedside in Rome,
the woman to whom I shouted my miserable story
in my delirium, the woman whose calm, resolute
voice healed me, hardened me, renewed in me the
desire to live.
90 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
St. Olphekts.
Ah ! Oh, these modern nurses, in their greys,
or browns, and snowy bibs ! They have much to
answer for, dear Lucas.
Lucas.
No, no ! Why will you persist, all of you, in re-
garding this as a mere morbid infatuation bred in
the fumes of pastilles ? It isn't so ! Laugh if you
care to ! — but this is a meeting of affinities, of the
solitary man and the truly sympathetic woman.
St. Olpherts.
And oh, oh, these sympathetic women !
Lucas.
No ! Oh, the unsympathetic women ! There
you have the cause of half the world's misery.
The unsympathetic women — you should have
loved one of them.
St. Olpherts.
I daresay I've done that in my time.
Lucas.
Love one of these women — I know ! — worship
her, yield yourself to the intoxicating day-dreams
that make the grimy world sweeter than any heaven
ever imagined. How your heart leaps with grati-
tude for your good fortune ; how compassionately
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 91
you regard your unblest fellow-men ! What may
you not accomplish with such a mate beside you ;
how higii will be your aims, how paltry every
obstacle that bars your way to them ; how sweet
is to be the labour, how divine the rest ! Then —
you marry her. Marry her, and in six months,
if you've pluck enough to do it, lag behind your
shooting-party and blow your brains out by acci-
dent, at the edge of a turnip-field. You have found
out by that time all that there is to look for —
the daily diminishing interest in your doings, the
poorly assumed attention as you attempt to talk
over some plan for the future ; then the yawn
and, by degrees, the covert sneer, the little sar-
casm, and, finally, the frank, open stare of bore-
dom. Ah, duke, wdien you all carry out your
repressive legislation against women of evil lives,
don't fail to include in your schedule the Unsym-
pathetic Wives. They are the women whose vic-
tims show the sorriest scars ; they are the really
"bad women" of the world — all the others are
snow-white in comparison !
St. Olpherts.
Yes, you've got a great deal of this in that capi-
tal Essay you quoted from this morning. Dear
fellow, I admit your home discomforts. But to
jump out of that frying-pan into this confounded
— what does she call it ? — Compact !
Lucas.
Compact ?
92 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
St. Olpherts.
A vague reference, as I understand, to your joint
crusade against the blessed institution of Marriage.
Lucas.
\^An alteration in liis manner. '\ Oh — ho, that
idea ! What — what has she been saying to you ?
St. Olpherts.
Incidentally she pitched into me, dear Lucas ;
she attacked my moral character. You must have
been telling tales.
Lucas.
Oh, I — I hope not. Of course, we —
St. Olpherts.
Yes, yes — a little family gossip, to pass the
time while she has been dressing her hair, or —
by-the-bye, she doesn't appear to spend much
time in dressing her hair.
Lucas.
\_Bitin<j his lip.'\ Really?
St. Olpherts.
Then she denounced the gilded aristocracy gen-
erally. Our day is over; we're broken wooden
dolls and are going to be chucked. The old tune,
but I enjoyed the novelty of being so near the
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSM/TH. 93
instrument. I assure you, dear fellow, I was
within three feet of her when she deliberately
Trafalgar Squared me.
Lucas.
IWith an uneasy laugh.'] You're the red rag,
duke. This spirit of revolt in her — it's ludi-
crously extravagant ; but it will die out in time,
when she has become used to being happy and
cared for — \_2Kirtly to himself, lalth clenched
hands'] yes, cared for.
St. Olpherts.
Die out ? Bred in the bone, dear Lucas.
Lucas.
On some topics she's a mere echo of her father
— if you mean that.
St. Olpherts.
The father — one of these public-park vermin,
eh?
Lucas.
Dead years ago.
St. Olpherts.
I once heard her bellowing in a dirty little shed
in St. Luke's. I told you ?
Lucas.
Yes ; you've told me.
junior ?
94 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH.
St. Olphekts.
I sat there again, it seemed, this afternoon.
The orator not quite so lean, perhaps ; a little less
witch-like, but —
Lucas.
She was actually in want of food in those days.
Poor girl ! [PoMly to himseJf.^ I mean to re-
mind myself of that constantly. Poor girl !
St. Olpherts.
Gii'l f Let me see — you're considerably her
Lucas.
No, no ; a few months perhaps.
St. Olpherts.
Oh, come !
Lucas.
Well, years — two or three.
St. Olpherts.
The voice remains rather raucous.
Lucas.
By God, the voice is sweet
St. Olpherts.
Well — considering the wear and tear. Eeally,
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 95
my dear fellow, I do believe this — I do believe
that if you gowned her respectably —
Lucas.
\_Impulsively.~\ Yes, yes, I say so. I tell her
that.
St. Olpherts.
[ With a smile.'] Do you ! That's odd now.
Lucas.
What a topic ! Poor Agnes's dress !
St, Olpherts.
Your taste used to be rather sesthetic. Even
your own wife is one of the smartest women in
London.
Lucas.
Ha, well, I must contrive to smother these
aesthetic tastes of mine.
St. Olpherts.
It's a pity that other people will retain their
sense of the incongruous.
Lucas.
[^Snapping his fingers.'] Other people ! —
St. Olpherts.
The public.
96 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Lucas.
The public ?
St. Olpherts.
Come, you know well enough that unostentatious
immodesty is no part of your partner's programme.
Of course, you will find yourself by and by in a
sort of perpetual public parade with your crack-
brained visionary —
Lucas.
You shall not speak of her so ! You shall not.
St. Olpherts.
\_Unconcernedhj.'] Each of you bearing a pole
of the soiled banner of Free Union. Free Union
for the People ! Ho, my dear Lucas !
Lucas.
Good heavens, duke, do you imagine, now that
I am in sound health and mind again, that I don't
see the hideous absurdity of these views of hers !
St. Olpherts.
Then why the deuce don't you listen a little
more patiently to my views ?
Lucas.
No, no. I tell you I intend to keep faith with
her, as far as I am able. She's so earnest, so
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 97
pitiably earnest. If I broke faith with her en-
tirely it would be too damnably cowardly.
St. Olpiierts.
Cowardly ?
Lucas.
\_Pacing the rooyn (i(jitatedly.~\ Besides, we shall
do well together, after all, I believe — she and I.
In the end we shall make concessions to each other
and settle down, somewhere abroad, peacefully.
St. Olpherts.
Hah ! And they called you a Coming Man at
one time, didn't they ?
Lucas.
Oh, I — I shall make as fine a career with my
pen as that other career would have been. At any
rate, I ask you to leave me to it all — to leave me.
[Fortune enters. The shades of evening
have now deepened ; the glow of sunset
comes into the room.
Fortune.
I beg your pardon, sir.
Lucas.
Well ?
Fortune.
It is pas' ze time for you to dress for dinner.
98 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Lucas.
I'll come. [Fortune goes out.
St. Olpherts.
When do we next meet, dear fellow ?
Lucas.
No, no — please not again.
[Nell A enters^ excitedly.
Nella.
\_Speaki7ig over her shoulder.^ Si, Signore ; ecco
il Signore. (Yes, Signora ; here is the Signor.)
[To Cleeve.] Scusi, Signore. Qiiando la vedra
come e cara ! — (Pardon, Signor. When you see
her you'll see how SAveet she looks ! — )
[ Agnes 's voice is heard.
Agnes.
\^Outside.^ Am I keeping you waiting, Lucas ?
\_She enters, handsomely gowned, her throat
and arms ba7'e, the fashion of her hair
roughly altered. She stops ahniptly
upon seeing St. Olpherts ; a strange
light comes into her eyes ; voice., manner,
hearing, all express triumph. The two
Tnen stare at her blankly. She appears
to be a beautiful ivoman.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBDSMITH.
Agxes.
99
[To Nell A.] Un petit chale noir tricote — cher-
chez-le. [Nella iuitJidniws.~\ Ah, you are not
dressed, Lucas dear.
Lucas.
What — what time is it ?
\_He goes toiuards the door still staring at
Agnes.
St. Olpherts.
\_Looking at her and speaking in an altered tone.'\
I fear my gossiping has delayed him. You — you
dine out ?
Agnes.
At the Grtinwakl. Why don't you join us ?
[Turning to Lucas ligktlf/.^ Persuade him, Lucas.
[Lucas pauses at the door.
St. Olpherts.
Er - — impossible. Some — friends of mine may
arrive to-night. [Lucas goes out.] 1 am more
than sorry.
Agnes.
\_Mockingbj.~\ Really ? You are sure you are
not shy of being seen with a notorious woman ?
St. Olpherts.
My dear Mrs. Ebbsmith ! —
100 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Agnes.
No, I forget — that would be unlike you. Mad
people scare you, perhaps ?
St. Olpherts
Ha, ha ! don't be too rough.
Agnes.
Come, duke, confess — isn't there more sanity
in me than you suspected ?
St. Olpherts.
\In a loiv voice, eyeing her.'] Much more. I
think you are very clever.
[Lucas quietly re-enters the room ; he
halts upon seeing that St. Olpherts
still lingers.
St. Olpherts.
\_With a wave of the hand to Lucas.] Just off,
dear fellow. \Iie offers his hand to Agnes ; she
quickly places hers behind her hack.] You — you
are charming. \^He walks to the door, then looks
round at the jjalr.] Au 'voir!
Agnes.
Au Voir ! [St. Olpherts goes out. Her head
drooping suddenly, hcv voice hard and dull.] You
had better take me to Fulici's before we dine and
buy me some gloves.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS EBBSMITH. loi
Lucas.
\_Co7)iing to her and seizing her hand.'] Agnes
dear !
Agnes.
\_Iieleasing herself and sitting ivith a heavy, al-
most sulleii, look upon her face.] Are you satis-
fied ?
Lucas.
\_Bil her side.] You have delighted me ! how
weet you look !
Agnes.
Ah —
Lucas.
You shall have twenty new gowns now ; you
shall see the women envying you, the men envying
me. Ah, ha ! fifty new gowns ! you will wear
them ?
Agnes.
Yes.
Lucas.
Why, what has brought about this change in
Agnes.
you?
What !
Lucas.
What?
Agnes.
I — know —
102 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Lucas.
You know.
Agnes.
Exactly how you regard me.
Lucas.
I don't understand you —
Agnes.
Listen. Long ago, in Florence, I began to sus-
pect that we had made a mistake, Lucas. Even
there I began to suspect that your nature was
not one to allow you to go through life sternly,
severely, looking upon me more and more each
day as a fellow-worker, and less and less as — a
woman. I suspected this — oh, proved it! — but
still made myself believe that this companionship
of ours would gradually become, in a sense, colder
— more temperate, more impassive. \_Beating her
broiv.^ Never ! never ! Oh, a few minutes ago
this man, who means to part us if he can, drew
your character, disposition, in a dozen words !
Lucas.
You believe hiJii ! You credit what he says of
me !
Agnes.
I declared it to be untrue. Oh, but —
Lucas.
But— but — !
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 103
Agnes.
\Ilising^ seizhuj his arm.'] The picture he paints
of you is not wholly a false one. Sssh ! Lucas,
hark, attend to me ! I resign myself to it all !
Dear, I must resign myself to it !
Lucas.
Resign yourself ? Has life with me become so
distasteful ?
Agnes.
Has it ? Think ! Why, when I realized the
actual conditions of our companionship — why
didn't I go on my own way stoically ? Why don't
I go at this moment ?
Lucas.
You really love me, do you mean — as simple,
tender women are content to love ? \^She looks
at Iiim, nods sloivly, then turns away and droojis
over the table. He raises her and takes her in
his arms.'] My dear girl ! My dear, cold, warm-
hearted girl ! Ha ! You couldn't bear to see me
packed up in one of the duke's travelling-boxes
and borne back to London, eh ? [^She shakes her
head ; her Hjjs form the word "iVo."] No fear of
that, my — my sweetheart !
Agnes.
[ Genthj iiushincj him from her.] Quick — dress
— take me out.
I04 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Lucas.
You are shivering; go and get your thickest
wrap.
Agnes.
That heavy brown cloak of mine ?
Lucas.
Yes.
Agnes.
It's an old friend, but — dreadfully shabby. You
will be ashamed of me again.
Lucas.
Ashamed ! —
Agnes.
I'll write to Bardini about a new one to-morrow.
I won't oppose you — I won't repel you any more.
Lucas.
Kepel me ! I only urged you to reveal yourself
as what you are — a beautiful woman.
Agnes.
Ah! Ami — that?
Lucas.
\_Kissing her.'] Beautiful — beautiful !
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 105
Agnes.
[ With a gesture of abandonment.'] I — I'm glad.
[^She leaves hhn and goes out. He looks
after her for a moment thoughtfully,
then suddenly jjasses his hands across
his broiv and opens his arms widely as
if casting a burden from him.
Lucas.
Oh ! — oh ! — \_Turning aicay alertly.] Fortune
!
END OF THE SECOND ACT.
io6 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH,
THE THIED ACT.
The scene is the same as before, hut it is eve7iing,
and the hnn/ps are lighted ivitJiin the room,
while outside is hrigJit moonlight. Agnes,
dressed as at the end of the jpreceding Act, is
lying upon the settee propped up) by pillous.
A pretty silk shawl, ichich she plays with rest-
lessly, is over her sJioulders. Her face is jmle,
but her eyes glitter, and her voice has a brig]it
ring in it. Kirke is seated at a table, writing.
Gektkude, untho'ut hat or mantle, is standing
behind the settee, looking down smilingly upon
Agnes.
Kirke.
{^Vrithig.'\ H'm — [To Agnes.] Are you
often guilty of this sort of thing?
Agnes.
\_Laughvng.'] I've never fainted before in my
life ; I don't mean to do so again.
Kirke.
\_Writlng.^ Should you alter your mind about
that, do select a suitable spot on the next occasion.
What was it your head came against ?
Gertrude.
A wooden chest, Mr. Cleeve thinks.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS EBBSMITH. 107
Agnes.
With beautiful, rusty, iron clamps. \Futting
her hand to her head, and addressing Gertrude.]
The price of vanity.
KiRKE.
Vanity ?
Agnes.
Lucas was to take me out to dinner. While I
was waiting for him to dress I must needs stand
and survey my full length in a mirror.
Kirke.
\_Glancing at her.'] A very excusable proceed-
ing.
Agnes.
Suddenly the room sank and left me — so the
feeling was — in air.
Kirke.
Well, most women can manage to look into their
pier-glasses without swooning — eh, Mrs. Thorpe ?
Gertrude.
\_Smiling.~\ How should I know, doctor ?
Kirke.
\_Blotting his loriting.'] There. How goes the
time ?
io8 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Gertrude.
Half-past eight.
KiRKE.
ni leave this prescription at Mantovani's my-
self. I can get it made up to-night.
Agnes.
\_Taking the prescription out of his hand, play-
fully.'\ Let me look.
KiRKE.
\Frotestinfj.'\ Now, now
.Agnes.
\_Reading the pjrescription.'] Ha. ha ! After all,
what humbugs doctors are !
Kirke.
You've never heard me deny it
Agnes.
\_Returning the jwescription to him.'] But I'll
swallow it — for the dignity of my old profession.
\_She reaches out her hand +o take a cigarette..
Kirke.
Don't smoke too many of those things.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 109
Agxes.
They never harm me. It's a survival of the
time in my life when the cupboard was always
empty. [Sfrikinr/ a match.'] Only it had to be
stronger tobacco in those days, I can tell you.
\^S/ie lights her cigarette. Gertrude ^5
assistingJLiRKiE with his overcoat. Lu-
cas enters in evening dress, and looking
younger, almost boyish.
Lucas.
IBrightly.-] Well ?
KiRKE.
She's to have a cup of good bouillon — Mrs.
Thorpe is going to look after that — and anything
else she fancies. She's all right. \_Shaking hands
with Agxes.] The excitement of putting on that
pretty frock — [Agxes gives a hard little laugh.
Shaking hands ivith Lucas.] I'll look in to-mor-
row. [Turning to Gertrude.] Oh, just a word
with you, mirse.
[Lucas has been bending over Agnes
affectionately ; he noiv sits by her., and
they talk in under tones ; he lights a
cigarette frorn hers.
KiRKE.
\_To Gertrude.] There's many a true word,
et cetera.
no THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH.
Gertrude.
Excitement ?
KiRKE.
Yes ; and that smart gown's connected with it
too.
Gertrude.
It is extraordinary to see her like this.
KiRKE.
Not the same woman.
Gertrude.
No, nor is he quite the same man.
KiRKE.
How long can you remain with her ?
Gertrude.
Till eleven — if you will let my brother know
where I am.
KiRKE.
What, doesn't he know ?
Gertrude.
I simply sent word, about an hour ago, that I
shouldn't Toe back to dinner.
KiRKE,
Very well.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. in
Gertrude.
Look here ! I'll get you to tell hiin the truth.
KiRKE.
The truth — oh ?
Gertrude.
I called here this afternoon, unknown to Amos,
to bid her good-by. Then I pottered about, rather
miserably, spending money. Coming out of Kaya's
the photographer's, I tumbled over Mr. Cleeve,
who had been looking for you, and he begged me
to come round here again after I had done my
shopping.
Kirke.
I understand.
Gertrude.
Doctor, have you ever seen Amos look dread-
fully stern and knit about the brows — like a
bishop who is put out ?
Kirke.
No.
Gertrude.
Then you will.
Kirke.
Well, this is a pretty task ! —
\He goes out. Gertrude comes to Agnes.
Lucas rises.
112 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Gertrude.
I'm going down into the kitchen to see what
these people can do in the way of strong soup.
Lucas.
You are exceedingly good to us, Mrs. Thorpe.
I can't tell you how ashamed I am of my bearish-
ness this afternoon.
Gertrude.
^^Arranging the shawl about Agnes's shoulders.']
Hush, please !
Agnes.
Are you looking at my shawl ? Lucas brought
it in with him, as a reward for my coming out of
that stupid faint. I — I have always refused to
be — spoilt in this way, but now — now —
Lucas.
\^Breaking in deliberately.'] Pretty work upon
it, is there not, Mrs. Thorpe ?
Gertrude.
Charming. \_G0i71g to the door which Lucas
opens for her.] Thank you.
\_She passes out. Agnes rises.
Lucas.
Oh, my dear girl ! —
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 113
Agnes.
\_Throiving her cigarette under the stove.'\ I'm
quite myself again, Lucas dear. Watch me —
look ! [ Walking firmly.
Lucas.
No trembling ?
Agnes.
Not a flutter. [Watching her open hand.~\ My
hand is absolutely steady. [He takes her hand
and kisses it upon the pal7n.~\ Ah ! —
Lucas.
[Looking at her hand.'] No, it is shaking.
Agnes.
Yes when you — when you — oh, Lucas ! —
[She sinks into a chair, turning her back
up)on him, and covering her face with
her hands ; her shoulders heaving.
Lucas.
[Going to her.] Agnes, dear !
Agnes.
[Taking out her handkerchief.] Let me — let
me —
Lucas.
[Bending over her.] I've never seen you —
114 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH.
Agnes.
No ; I've never been a crying woman. But some
great change has befallen me, I believe. AVhat
is it ? That swoon — it wasn't mere f aintness,
giddiness ; it was this change coming over me !
Lucas.
You are not unhappy ?
Agnes.
[Wipi?if/ her eyes.'] No, I — I don't think I
am. Isn't that strange ?
Lucas.
My dearest, I'm glad to hear you say that, for
you've made me very happy.
Agnes.
Because I — ?
Lucas.
Because you love me — naturally, that's one
great reason.
Agnes.
I have always loved you.
Lucas.
But never so utterly, so absorbingly, as you confess
you do now. Do you fully realize what your con-
fession does ? It strikes off the shackles from me,
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 115
from us — sets us free. [ With a gesture of free-
dom.'] Oh, my clear Agnes, free !
Agxes.
\_Starlng at him.] Free ?
Lucas.
Free from the burden of that crazy plan of ours
of trumpeting our relations to the world. For-
give me — crazy is the only word for it. Thank
heaven, we've at last admitted to each other that
we're ordinary man and woman ! Of course, I was
ill — off my head. I didn't know what I was en-
tering upon. And you, dear — living a pleasure-
less life, letting your thoughts dwell constantly on
old troubles ; that is how cranks are made. Now
that Fni strong again, body and mind, I can pro-
tect you, keep you right. Ha, ha ! What were we
to pose as ? Examples of independence of thought
and action ! \_Laug1iliuj.~\ Oh, my darling, we'll
be independent in thought and action still — but
we won't muke examples of ourselves, eh ?
Agnes.
[ Who has been icatchlng Jiim tvith unde-open eyes.]
Do you mean that all idea of our writing together,
working together, defending our position, and the
positions of such as ourselves, before the world, is
to be abandoned ?
Lucas.
Why, of course.
ii6 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH.
Agnes.
/ — I didn't quite mean that.
Lucas.
Oh, come, come ! We'll furl what my uncle
calls the banner of Free Union finally. [_Going
to her, and kissing her hair lightly. \ Tor the
future, mere man and woman. [Facing the room
excitedly.'] The future ! I've settled everything
already. The work shall fall wholly on my
shoulders. My poor girl, you shall enjoy a little
rest and pleasure.
Agnes.
\_In a low voice.] Best and pleasure —
Lucas.
We'll remain abroad. One can live unobserved
abroad, without actually hiding. \^She rises
sloivly.] We'll find an ideal retreat. No more
English tourists prying round us ! And there,
in some beautiful spot, alone except for your
company, I'll work ! [^As he paces the room, she
ivalks slowly to and fro, listening, staining before
her.] I'll work. My new career! I'll write
under a nom de plume. My books, Agnes, shall
never ride to popularity on the back of a scan-
dal. Our life ! The mornings I must spend by
myself, of course, shut up in my room. In the
afternoon we will walk together. After dinner
you shall hear what I've written in the morning ;
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 117
and then a few turns round our pretty garden,
a glance at the stars with my arm about your
waist — \_She stops abruptly., a look of horror
on her face.~\ While you whisper to me words
of tenderness, words of — [^There is the distant
sound of music of mandolin and guitar.~\ Ah ?
[To Agnes.] Keep your shawl over your shoul-
ders. \_Op)enin(j the tvindow and stepping out ; the
music becoming louder.'] Some mandolinisti, in a
gondola. \_Listening at the luindoiu, his head turned
from her.] How pretty, Agnes ! Now, don't those
mere sounds, in such surroundings, give you a sen-
sation of hatred for revolt and turmoil ! Don't
they conjure up alluringly pictures of peace and
pleasure, of golden days and star-lit nights —
pictures of beauty and of love ?
Agnes.
\_Sitting on the settee, staring before her, speaking
to herself] My marriage — the early days of my
marriage — all over again !
Lucas.
\_Turning to lier.] Eh ? \_Closing the ivindow, and
coming down to Iter as the music dies away.] Tell
me that those sounds thrill you.
Agnes.
Lucas —
Lucas.
\_Sitting beside her.] Yes ?
ii8 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Agnes.
For the first few months of my marriage —
\_Bre(>kin(j off abruptly, and looking into his face
vjonderinfjly.^ Why, how young you seem to have
become ; you look quite boyish !
Lucas.
\_Lauglting.'] I believe that this return of our
senses will make us both young again.
Agnes.
Both ? [ With a little shudder.'] You know,
I'm older than you.
Lucas.
Tsch!
Agnes.
\_Passlng her nand through his hair.] Yes, I
shall feel that 7iow. \_Stroking his brow tenderly.]
Well — so it has come to this.
Lucas.
I declare you have colour in your cheeks al-
ready.
Agnes.
The return of my senses ?
Lucas.
My dear Agnes, we've both been to the verge of
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 119
madness, you and I — driven there by our troubles.
\_Taking her hand.'] Let us agree, in so many
words, that we have completely recovered. Shall
we?
Agxes.
Perhaps mine is a more obstinate case. IMy
enemies called me mad years ago.
Lucas.
[ With a ivave of the hand.'] Ah, but the future,
the future. ]S"o more thoughts of reforming un-
equal laws from public platforms, no more shriek-
ing in obscure magazines. No more beating of
bare knuckles against stone walls. Come, say it !
Agnes.
[ With an effort.] Go on.
Lucas.
\_Look'inr/ before h'lni — parthj to himsetf his voice
hardening.] I'll never be mad again — never.
[Throw i7ig his head back.] By heavens ! \^To her,
in an altered tone.] You don't say it.
Agnes.
\_After a panse.] I — I will never be mad
again.
Lucas.
\_Triumphantly.] Hah! ha, ha! \_She deliber-
ately removes the shawl from about her shoulders
I20 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH.
and, putting her arms round his neck, draws him
to her.'\ Ah, my dear girl !
Agnes.
\_hi a ivhisjjer with her head on his breast.~\
Lucas.
Lucas.
Yes.
Agnes.
Isn't this madness ?
Lucas.
I don't think so.
Agnes.
Oh ! oh ! oh ! I believe, to be a woman is to be
mad.
Lucas.
No, to be a woman trying not to be a woman —
that is to be mad.
\_She dratvs a long, dee}) breath, then, sit-
ting away from him, resumes her shaivl
mechanically.
Agnes.
Now, you promised me to run out to the Capello
Nero to get a little food.
Lucas.
Oh, I'd rather —
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 121
Agnes.
\_Rldn<jr\ Dearest, you need it.
Lucas.
\Rism<j.'\ Well — Fortune shall fetch my hat
and coat.
Agnes.
Fortune ! Are you going to take all my work
from me ?
\_She is ivalkuKj towards the door ; the
sound of his voice stops her.
Lucas.
Agnes! \_She returns.'^ A thousand thoughts
have rushed through my brain this last hour or
two. I've been thinking — my wife —
Agnes.
Yes?
Lucas.
My wife — she will soon get tired of her present
position. If, by and by, there should be a divorce,
there would be nothing to prevent our marrying.
Agnes.
Our — marrying !
Lucas.
\^Sitting, not looking at her, as if discussing the
matter with himself ~\ It might be to my ad van-
122 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
tage to settle again in London some day. After
all, scandals quickly lose their keen edge. What
would you say ?
Agnes.
Marriage —
Lucas.
Ah, remember, we're rational beings for the
future. However, we needn't talk about it now.
Agnes.
No.
Lucas.
Still, I assume you wouldn't oppose it. You
would marry me if I wished it ?
Agnes.
\J.n a low voice.^ Yes.
Lucas.
That's a sensible girl ! By Jove, I am hungry !
[^e lights a cigarette, as she walks slowly
to the door, then throws himself idly
back on the settee.
Agnes.
[To herself, in a whisper.'] My old life — my
old life coming all over again !
\_She goes out. He lies watching the
ivreaths of tobacco smoke. After a mo-
ment or two. Fortune enters, closing
the door behind hi7n carefully.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 123
Lucas.
FuKTUXE.
\_After a glance round, dropphuj his voice.'\ Ze
Duke of Saint Olphert 'e say 'e voukl like to speak
a meenit alone.
[Lucas rises, ivith a muttered exclaniatloii
of annoyance,
Lucas.
Priez Monsieur le due d'entrer.
[Fortune (joes to the door and opens it.
The Duke of St. Olphekts enters; he
is in evening dress. Foktuxe retires.
St. Olphekts.
Quite alone ?
Lucas.
For the moment.
St. Olphekts.
My excuse to Mrs. Ebbsmith for not dining at
the Grunwald — it was a perfectly legitimate one,
dear Lucas. I was really expecting visitors.
Lucas.
[ Wonderinglij.'] Yes ?
124 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
St. Olpherts.
[ With a little cough and a drawn face."] Oh, I
am not so well to-night. Damn these people for
troubling me ! Damn 'em for keeping me hopping
about! Damn 'em for every shoot I feel in my
leg. Visitors from England — they've arrived.
Lucas.
But what — ?
St. Olpherts.
I shall die of gout some day, Lucas. Er — your
wife is here.
Sybil
Lucas.
St. Olpherts.
She's come through with your brother. Sand-
ford's a worse prig than ever — and I'm in shock-
in' pain.
Lucas.
This — this is your doing!
St. Olpherts.
Yes. Damn you, don't keep me standing !
[Agnes enters, with Lucas's liat and coat.
She stojis ahrupthj on seeing St. Ol-
pherts.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 125
St. Olpherts.
\Bij tire settee — playfulbj^ throur/h his pain.']
Ah, my clear Mrs. Ebbsmith, how can you have
the heart to deceive an invalid, a poor wretch who
begs you \_sitting on the settee] to allow him to sit
down for a moment ?
[Agnes dejjosits the hat aiicl coat.
Agnes.
Deceive ? —
St. Olpherts.
My friends arrive, I dine scrappily with them,
and hurry to the Grlinwald thinking to catch you
over your Zabajone. Dear lady, you haven't been
near the Grunwald.
Agnes.
Your women faint sometimes, don't they ?
St. Olpherts.
My — ? [//i^j>am.] Oh, what rZo you mean ?
Agnes.
The women in your class of life ?
St. Olpherts.
Faint ? oh, yes, when there's occasion for it.
Agnes.
I'm hopelessly low-born ; I fainted involuntarily.
126 THE NO TO RIO (JS AfRS. EBBSMITH.
St. Olpherts.
\_Moving nearer to her.'] Oh, my dear, pray for-
give me. You've recovered ? \_She nods.~\ In-
disposition agrees with you, evidently. Your
colouring to-night is charming. \_Cou<j]iinfj.~\ You
are — delightful — to — look at.
[Gertrude enters, carrying a tray on
ivlilch are a hoivl of soup, a small de-
canter of whie, and accessories. She
looks at St. Olpherts unconcernedly,
then turns away and places the tray
on a table.
St. Olpherts.
\_Quietly to Agnes.] Not a servant?
Agnes.
Oh, no.
St. Olpherts.
[Rising promptly.] Good God ! I beg your
pardon. A friend ?
Agnes.
Yes.
St. Olpherts.
\Looking at Gertrude, critically.'] Very nice.
\_Still looking at Gertrude, hut speaking to Agnes
in undertones.] Married or — ? \_Turning to
Agnes.] Married or — ?
[Agnes has ivalked away.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMJTH, 127
Gertrude.
\_To Lucas, looking round.'] It is draughty at
this table.
Lucas.
\_Going to the table near the settee and collecting
the tvriting materials.] Here —
[Agnes joins Gertrude.
St. Olpherts.
\_Qaietli/ to Lucas.] Lucas — [Lucas ^oes ^0
him.'] Who's that gal ?
Lucas.
\_To St. Olpherts.] An hotel acquaintance we
made in Florence — Mrs. Thorpe.
St. Olpherts.
AVhere's the husband ?
Lucas.
A widow.
St. Olpherts.
You might —
[Gertrude advances ivith the tray.
Lucas.
Mrs. Thorpe, the Duke of St. Olpherts asks me
to present you to him.
[Gertrude inclines her head to the Duke.
Lucas places the tvritincj materials on
another table.
128 THE NOTORIOUS MRS, EBB SMITH.
St. Olpherts.
\_Llmj)ing up to Gertrude and handling the
tnu/.'] I beg to be allowed to help you. \_At the
t<ible.'\ The tray here ?
Gertrude.
Thank you.
St. Olpherts.
Ha, how clumsy I am ! We think it so gracious
of you to look after our poor friend here who is
not quite herself to-day. [To Agxes.] Come
along, dear lady — everything is prepared for you.
[jf'r> Gertrude.] You are here with — with your
mother, I understand.
Gertrude.
My brother.
St. Olpherts.
Brother. Now, do tell me whether you find your
— your little hotel comfortable.
Gertrude.
\_Looking at him steadily. ~\ We don't stay at
one.
St. Olpherts.
Apartments ?
Gertrude.
Yes.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 129
St. Olpherts.
Do you know, dear Mrs. Thorpe, I have always
had the very strongest desire to live in lodgings in
Venice ?
Gp:rtrude.
You should gratify it. Our quarters are rather
humble ; we are in the Campo San Bartolomeo.
St. Olpherts.
But how delightful !
Gertrude.
Why not come and see our rooms ?
St. Olpherts.
IBoiving.^ My dear young lady ! \_Producing
• t pencil and writing upon his shirt-cuff.'] Campo
San Bartolomeo —
Gertrude.
Five — four — nought — two.
St. Olpherts.
[ Writing.'] Five — four — nought — two. To-
morrow afternoon ? [_She inclines her head.] Four
o'clock ?
Gertrude.
Yes ; that would give the people ample time to
tidy and clear up after us.
I30 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
St. Olpherts.
After you — ?
Gertrude.
After our departure. My brother and I leave
early to-morrow morning.
St. Olpherts.
\^After a brief jjmise, imperturhahlij.'] A thousand
thanks. May I impose myself so far upon you
as to ask you to tell your landlord to expect me ?
\_Takin<j up his hat and stick.'] We are allowing
this soup to get cold. \_Joining Lucas.] Dear
Lucas, you have something to say to me — ?
Lucas.
\_02)ening the door.'] Come into my room.
\_Thei/ go out. The two wortien look at
each other sUjmficantly.
Agnes.
You're a splendid woman.
Gertrude.
That's rather a bad man, I think. Now, dear —
S^She places Agnes on the settee and sets
the soup, etc., before Iter. Agnes eats.
Gertrude.
[^ Watching her closely.] So you have succeeded
in coming to close quarters, as you expressed it,
with him.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 131
Agnes.
\_TaGituimly.~\ Yes.
Gertrude.
His second visit here to-day, I gather ?
Agxes.
Yes.
Gertrude.
His attitude towards you ; his presence here
under any circumstances — it's all rather queer.
Agnes.
His code of behaviour is peculiarly his own.
Gertrude.
However, are you easier in your mind ?
Agnes.
\_Qalethj, hut with intensitij.'] I shall defeat
him. I shall defeat him.
Gertrude.
Defeat him ? You will succeed in holding Mr.
Cleeve, you mean ?
Agnes.
Oh, if you put it in that way —
132 THE NOTORIOUS AIRS. EBBSMITH.
Gertrude.
Oh, come, I remember all you told me this after-
noon. [ With disdain. ~\ So it has already arrived,
then, at a simple struggle to hold Mr. Cleeve ?
\_There is a pause. Agnes, ivithout an-
sivering, stretches out her hand to the
wine. Her hand shakes — she with-
draws it helplessly.
Gertrude.
What do you want — wine ?
[Agnes nods. Gertrude pours out wine
and gives her the glass. Agnes drains
it eagerly and replaces it.
Gertrude.
Agnes —
Agnes.
Yes?
Gertrude.
You are dressed very beautifully.
Agnes.
Do you think so ?
Gertrude.
Don't you know it ? A^'llo made you that gown ?
Agnes.
Bardini,
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 133
Gertrude.
I shouldn't have credited the little woinau with
such excellent ideas.
Agnes.
Oh, Lucas gave her the idea when he — when
he —
Gertrude.
When he ordered it ?
Agnes.
Yes.
Gertrude.
Oh, — the whole thing came as a surprise to
you?
Agnes.
Er — quite.
Gertrude.
I noticed the box this afternoon, when I called.
Agnes.
Mr. Cleeve wishes me to appear more like —
more like —
Gertrude.
An ordinary smart woman. \_Contemptuously.~\
Well, you ought to find no difficulty in managing
that. You can make yourself very charming, it
appears.
[Agnes again reaches out a hand towards
the ivine. Gertrude pours a very little
wine into the wine-glass and takes nj)
the glass ; Agnes holds out her hand to
receive it.
134 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH,
Gertrude.
Do you mind my drinking from your glass ?
Agnes.
\_Starinfj at //er.] No.
[Gertrude empties the glass and then
places it in a 7na7']xecl way, cm the side
of the table furthest from Agnes.
Gertrude.
[With a little shinhlcr.'] Ugh! Ugh! [Agnes
moves away from Gertrude, to the end of the
settee, her head bowed, her hands clenched.~\ I
have something to propose. Come home with me
to-morrow.
Agnes.
\_Raising her head.^ Home ? —
Gertrude.
Ketherick. The very spot for a woman who
wants to shut out things. Miles and miles of wild
moorland ! For company, purple heath and moss-
covered granite, in summer ; in winter, the moor-
fowl and the snow glistening on top of the crags.
Oh, and for open-air music, our little church owns
the sweetest little peal of old bells ! — [Agnes
rises, disturbed.'] Ah, I can't promise you tJieir
silence ! Indeed, I'm very much afraid that on a
still Sunday you can even hear the sound of the
organ quite a long distance off. I am the organist
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 135
when I'm at home. That's Ketherick. Will you
come ?
\_The distant tinkling of mandolin and
guitar is again heard.
Agxes.
Listen to that. The mandolinisti ! You talk
of the sound of your church-organ — and I hear
his music.
Gertrude.
His music ?
Agnes.
The music he is fond of; the music that gives
him the thoughts that please him, soothe him.
Gertrude.
\_Listeni7ig — humming the ivords of the air, con-
temptouslT/.']
"Beir amore deli ! porgi V oreccliio,
Ad un canto die parte dal cuore. ..."
Lo ve-miisic !
Agnes.
\^In a. low voice, staring upon the ground.'] Yes,
love-music.
[TAe door leading from Lucas's i^oom
opens and St. Olpherts and Lucas
are heard talking. Gertrude hastily
goes out. Lucas enters ; the boyishness
of manner has left him — he is pale
and excited.
136 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Agnes.
\_Ap]jTelienswehj.'\ What is the matter?
Lucas.
My wife is revealing quite a novel phase oi
character.
Agnes.
Your wife — ?
Lucas.
The submissive mood. It's right that you
should be told, Agnes. She is here, at the Danieli,
with my brother Sandford. [St. Olpherts enters
slowly.'] Yes, positively ! It appears that she
has lent herself to a scheme of Sandford's [^glan-
cing at St. Olpherts] and of — and of —
St. Olpherts.
Of Sandford's.
Lucas.
[To Agnes.] A plan of reconciliation. \_To
St. Olpherts.] Tell Sybil that the submissive
mood comes too late, by a year or so !
\_He }:}aGes to and fro. Agnes sits, ivitJt an
expressionless face.
Agnes.
[Quietly to St. Olpherts.] The "friends"
you were expecting, duke ?
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 137
St. Olpherts.
\_MeeMy.'\ Yes. \_Slie smiles at him scornfalhj.
Lucas.
Agnes, dear, you and I leave here early to-
morrow.
Agnes.
Very well, Lucas.
Lucas.
\_To St. Olpherts.] Duke, will you be the
bearer of a note from me to Sandford ?
St. Olpherts.
Certainly.
Lucas.
\_Going to the door of his room,.'] I'll write it at
once.
St. Olpherts.
\_Raislng his voice.] You won't see Sandford
then, dear Lucas, for a moment or two ?
Lucas.
No, no ; pray excuse me.
[i/e [/OPS out. St. Olpherts advances
to Agnes. The sound of the music
dies air a I/.
138 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH.
St. Olpherts.
\_Sripping his cloak off and tliroiring it njmn the
head of the settee.^ Upon my soul, I think you've
routed us !
A.GNES.
Yes.
St. Olpherts.
\_Sittlng, hreaklng into a laugh.'] Ha, ha! he,
he, he ! Sir Sandforcl and Mrs. Cleeve will be so
angry. Such a devil of a journey for nothing !
Ho! \_Coughing.~\ Ho, ho, ho!
Agnes.
This was to be your grand coup.
St. Olpherts.
I admit it — I have been keeping this in reserve.
Agnes.
I see. A further term of cat-and-dog life for
Lucas and this lady — but it would have served to
dispose of me, you fondly imagined. I see.
St. Olpherts.
I knew your hold on him was weakening. \_She
looks at him.'] You knew it too. \_She looks
aiuay.] He was beginning to find out that a
dowdy demagogue is not the cheeriest person to
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 139
live with. I repeat, you're a dooced clever woman,
my dear. \_Slie rises, ivith an impatient shake of
her hod(/, and ivalks past him, he following her
with his ei/es.'] And a handsome one, into the
bargain.
Agxes.
Tsch !
St. Olpherts.
Tell me, when did you make up your mind to
transform yourself ?
Agxes.
Suddenly, after our interview this afternoon ;
after what you said —
St. Olpherts.
Oh! —
Agxes.
[With a little shiver.^ An impulse.
St. Olpherts.
Impulse doesn't account for the possession of
those gorgeous trappings.
Agxes.
These rags ? A surprise gift from Lucas, to-
day.
St. Olpherts.
Really, my dear, I believe I've helped to bring
about my own defeat. \_Laugliing softly.'] Ho,
I40 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH.
ho, ho ! How disgusted the Cleeve family will be !
Ha, ha! \^Testihj.'\ Come, why don't you smile
— laugh ? You can afford to do so ! Show your
pretty white teeth ! laugh !
Agnes.
[Hysterically.'] Ha, ha, ha ! Ha !
St. Olpherts.
\_Gr inning. ~\ That's better !
\_Piishing the cigarette-box towards hiTn,
she takes a cigarette and jAaces it be-
tween her lips. He also takes a cigar-
ette gaily. They smoke — she standing^
with an elbow resting upon the topj of
the stove, looking down upon him.
St. Olpherts.
\_As he lights his cigarette.'] This isn't explo
sive, I hope ? No nitric and sulphuric acid, with
glycerine, eh ? \_Eyeing her wonderingly and ad-
rniringly.] By Jove ! Which is yon ? The shabby,
shapeless rebel who entertained me this afternoon,
or — \_kissing the tips of his fingers to her] or
that ?
Agnes.
This — this. [^Seating herself, slowly and thought-
fidly, facing the stove, her back turned to him.]
My sex has found me out.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 141
St. Olpherts.
Ha! tsch! \_Between his teeth.~\ Damn it, for
your sake I almost wish Lucas was a different sort
of feller !
Agnes.
\Tartlij to herself, ivith intensity. ~\ Nothing mat-
ters now — not even that. He's mine. He would
have died but for me. I gave him life. He is my
child, my husband, my lover, my bread, my day-
light— all — everything. Mine, mine.
St. Olpherts.
\_Rising and limping over to her.'] Good luck,
my girl.
Agnes.
Thanks !
St. Olpherts.
I'm rather sorry for you. This sort of triumph
is short-lived, you knov/.
Agnes.
\_Turni}i(j to Jiim.~\ I know. But I shall fight
for every moment that prolongs it. This is my
hour.
St. Olpherts.
Your hour — ?
Agxes.
There's only one hour in a woman's life.
142 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
St. Olphp:rts.
One — ?
Agxes.
One supreme hour. Her poor life is like the
arch of a crescent ; so many years lead up to that
hour, so many weary years decline from it. No
matter what she may strive for, there is a moment
when Circumstance taps her upon the shoulder and
says, " Woman, this hour is the best that Earth has
to spare you." It may come to her in calm or in
tempest, lighted by a steady radiance or by the
glitter of evil stars ; but however it comes, be it
good or evil, it is her hour — let her dwell upon
every second of it !
St. Olpherts.
And this little victory of yours — the possession
of this man ; you think this is the best that earth
can spare you ? \^She nods, slowly and deliberately,
with fixed eyes.~\ Dear me, how amusin' you
women are ! And in your dowdy days you had
ambitions ! \_SJie looks at hhn suddenly?^ They
were of a queer, gunpowder-and-f aggot sort — but
they were ambitions.
Agnes.
[^Startiiiff ujy.^ Oh! — [^Putting her hands to
her brows. \ Oh! — [Faciriy hini.~\ Ambitions!
Yes, yes ! You're right ! Once, long ago, I hoped
that my hour would be very different from this.
Ambitions ! I have seen myself, standing, hum-
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 143
bly clad, looking down upon a dense, swaying
crowd — a scarlet flag for my background. I have
seen the responsive look upon thousands of white,
eager, hungry faces, and I've heard the great,
hoarse shout of welcome as I have seized my flag
and hurried down amongst the people — to be
given a place with their leaders ! J ! With the
leaders, the leaders ! Yes, that is what I once
hoped would be my hour! \^Her voice sinking —
iveakly.~\ But this is my hour.
St. Olpherts.
[^After a brief jmuse.^ Well, my dear, when it's
over, you'll have the satisfaction of counting the
departing footsteps of a ruined man.
Agnes.
Kuined — !
St. Olpherts.
Yes, there's great compensation in that — for
women.
Agnes.
\_Sitti}i(j.~\ Why do you suggest he'll be ruined
through me? \_Uneasilij.'] At any rate, he'd
ended his old career before we met.
St. Olpherts.
Pardon me ; it's not too late now for him to
resume that career. The threads are not quite
broken yet.
Agnes.
Oh, the scandal in London —
144 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH,
St. Olpherts.
Would be dispelled by this sham reconciliation
with his wife.
Agnes.
\_Looking at him.'] Sham — ?
St. Olpherts.
Why, of course. All we desired to arrange was
that for the future their household should be con-
ducted strictly a la mode.
Agnes.
A la mode ?
St. Olpherts.
\_Be]ilnd the settee, looking down upon her\~\ Mr.
Cleeve in one quarter of the house, Mrs. Cleeve in
another.
Agnes.
Oh, yes.
St. Olpherts.
A proper aspect to the world, combined with
freedom on both sides. It's a more decorous sys-
tem than the aggressive Free Union you once
advocated ; and it's much in vogue at my end of
the town.
Agnes.
Your plan was a little more subtle than I gave
you credit for. This was to be your method of
getting rid of me !
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 145
St. Olpherts.
No, no. Don't you understand ? With regard
to yourself, we could have arrived at a compromise.
Agnes.
A compromise ?
St. Olpherts.
It would have made us quite happy to see you
placed upon a — upon a somewhat different foot-
ing.
Agnes.
What kind of — footing.
St. Olpherts.
The suburban villa, the little garden, a couple of
discreet servants — everything a la mode.
[ There is a brief j^ciuse. Then she rises
and tvalks across the room, outwardly
calm, but twisting her hands.
Agxes.
Well, you've had Mr. Cleeve's answer to that.
St. Olpherts.
Yes.
Agnes.
AVhich finally disposes of the whole matter —
disposes of it —
146 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
St. Olpherts.
Completely. \_Struck by an idea.~\ Unless
you — I
Agxes.
\_Tu7ming to him.'] Unless / — /
St. Olpherts.
Unless you —
Agnes.
\_After a moments 2^ause.'] What did Lucas say
to you when you — ?
St. Olpherts.
He said he knew you'd never make that sacrifice
for him — \_She 2yulls herself up rigidly.'] So he
declined to pain you by asking you to do it.
Agnes.
\_Crossing swiftly to the settee and speaking
straight into his face.] That's a lie !
St. Olpherts.
Keep your temper, my dear.
Agxes.
\_Passionately.'] His love may not last — it
won't! — but at this moment he loves me better
than that ! He wouldn't make a mere light thing
of me !
THE XOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 147
St. Olphekts.
Wouldn't he ! You try him !
Agxes.
What !
St. Olphekts.
You put him to the test !
Agxes.
\With her hands to her brows. ^ Oh — !
St. Olphekts.
No, no — don't!
Agnes.
[Fauitli/.] ^Vhy ?
St. Olphekts.
I like you. Damn hiin — you deserve to live
your hour I
[Lucas enters, with a letter hi his hand.
Agnes sits.
Lucas.
\_Givin(j St. Olphekts the letter.'] Thanks.
[St. Olphekts pockets the letter and
picks up his cloak; Lucas assisting
him.
148 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Agnes.
[ Outwardly cabii.^ Oh — Lucas —
Lucas.
Yes?
Agnes.
The duke has been — has been — telling me —
Lucas.
What, dear ?
Agnes.
The sort of arrangement proposed for your go-
ing back to London.
Lucas.
Oh, my brother's brilliant idea !
Agnes.
Acquiesced in by your wife.
[St. Olpherts strolls mv ay from them.
Lucas.
Certainly ; as I anticipated, she has become in-
tensely dissatisfied with her position.
Agnes.
And it would be quite possible, it seems, for you
to resume your old career ?
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBS M IT H. 149
Lucas.
Just barely possible — well, for the moment,
quite possible.
Agnes.
Quite possible.
Lucas.
I haven't, formally, made a sign to my political
friends yet. It's a task one leaves to the last.
I shall do so now, at once. My people have been
busying themselves, it appears, in reporting that I
shall return to London directly my health is fully
re-established.
Agnes.
In the hope ? — Oh, yes.
Lucas.
Hoping they'd be able to separate us before it
was too — too late.
Agnes.
Which hope they've now relinquished ?
Lucas.
Apparently.
Agnes.
They're prepared to accept a — a compromise, I
hear ?
Lucas.
Ha, yes !
150 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Agxes.
A compromise in my favour ?
Lucas.
[^Hesitatingly.'] They suggest —
Agnes.
Yes, yes, I know. After all, your old career
was — a success. You made your mark, as you
were saying the other day. You did make your
mark. [He laaUcs up mid doicu, restlesslij, ah-
stractedhj, Iter eyes folio ir lug Jiim.'] You were
generally spoken of, accepted, as a Coming Man.
The Coming Man, often, Avasn't it ?
Lucas.
[With an impatient wave of the hand.] That
doesn't matter !
Agnes.
And now you are giving it up — giving it all up.
[He sits on the settee, resting his elbow on
his knee, pushing his hand through his
hair.
Lucas.
But — but you believe I shall succeed equally
well in this new career of mine ?
Agnes.
[Looking at him stonil//.] There's the risk, you
must remember.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMTTH. 151
Lucas.
Obviously, there's the risk. Why do you say
all this to me now ?
Agnes.
Because now is the opportunity to — to go back.
Lucas.
\_Scornfally.'] Opportunity — ?
Agxes.
An excellent one. You're so strong and well
now.
Lucas.
Thanks to jow.
Agnes.
[^Staring before her.'\ Well — I did nurse you
carefully, didn't I ?
Lucas.
But I don't understand you. You are surely
not proposing to — to — break with me ?
Agnes.
No — I — I — I was only thinking that you —
you might see something in this suggestion of a
compromise.
[Lucas glances at St. Olpherts, whose
hack is turned to them, hut who instinc-
tively looks round, then goes and sits hy
the ivindow.
152 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Lucas.
\Looking at her searchmgly.'\ Well, but —
you — /
Agnes.
[ With assumed indifference.'] Oh, I — !
Lucas.
Yoic !
Agnes.
Lucas, don't — don't make nie paramount.
\_He moves to the end of tlie settee, show-
ing by a look that he desires her to sit
by him. After a vionient^s hesitatio7i
she takes her place beside hhn.
Lucas.
[/7^ a7i undertone."] I do make you paramount,
I do. My dear girl, under any circumstances you
would still be everything to me — always. \_Slie
nods with a vacant look.] There would have to
be this pretence of an establishment of mine —
that would have to be faced ; the whited sepulchre,
the mockery of dinners and receptions and so on.
But it would be to you I should fly for sympathy,
encouragement, rest.
Agnes.
Even if you were ill again — ?
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. 153
Lucas.
Even then, if it were practicable — if it could be
— if it —
Agnes.
\_Lookinfj him in the face. '\ Well — ?
Lucas.
[^Avoiding her gaze.'] Yes, dear ?
Agxes.
What do you say, then, to asking the duke to
give you back that letter to your brother ?
Lucas.
It wouldn't settle matters, simply destroying
that letter. Sandford begs me to go round to the
Danieli to-night^ to — to —
Agnes.
To see him ? [Lucas 7iods.'] And her ? [Re
shrugs his shoulders.] At what time ? Was any
time specified ?
Lucas.
Half -past nine.
Agxes.
I — I haven't my watch on.
Lucas.
[Referring to his watch.] Xine twenty-five.
154 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH.
Agxes.
You can almost manage it — if you'd like to go.
Lucas.
Oh, let them wait a few minutes for me ; that
won't hurt them.
Agnes.
\_Dazed.~\ Let me see — I did fetch your hat
and coat —
. \_She rises and icalks mechanicaUy, stiiin-
hlinrj against a chair. Lucas looks tq),
alarmed ; St. Olpherts rises.
Agxes.
\_Replacing the chair.'] It's all right; I didn't
notice this. \_Brin(jing Lucas's hat and coat, and
assisting him with the latter.'] How long will
you be ?
Lucas.
Kot more than half an hour. An nour at the
outside.
Agnes.
\_Arra7iging his neck-handkerchief.] Keep this
so.
Lucas.
Er — if — if I — if we —
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 155
Agnes.
The duke is waiting.
[Lucas turns away^ and joins St. Ol-
PHERTS.
Lucas.
\_To him, in a loiv voice.~\ I am going back to
the hotel with you.
St. Olpherts.
Oh, are you ?
\_The door opens and Fortune enters, fol-
lowed hy Amos Winterfield. For-
tune retires.
Amos.
\_To Lucas, sternly. '\ Is my sister still here,
may I ask ?
[Lucas looks to Agnes interrogatively.
She inclines her head.
Amos.
I should like her to know that I am waiting for
her. [Agnes goes out.
Lucas.
\_To Amos.] Pray excuse me.
[Amos draws back. St. Olpherts passes
out. At the door, Lucas pauses, and
bows slightly to Amos, who retiwns his
156 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
how in the samie fashion, then Lucas
follows St. Olpherts. Then Ger-
trude enters, ivearing her hat and
mantle. Agnes follows ; her move-
ments are unsteady, and there is a wild
look in her eyes.
Gertrude.
You've come to fetch me, Amos ?
[ZTe assents by a nod.
Amos.
\To Agnes.] I'm sorry to learn from Dr. Kirke
that you've been ill. I hope you're better.
Agnes.
Thank you, I am quite well.
[Turning away, Gertrude watching her.
Amos.
[Gruffly. '\ Are you ready, Gertrude ?
Gertrude.
No, dear, not yet. I want you to help me.
Amos.
In what way ?
Gertrude.
I want you to join me in persuading Mrs. Ebb-
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 157
smith — mij friend, Mrs. Ebbsuiith — to come to
Ketherick with us.
Amos.
My clear sister — !
Gertrude.
\_Firmhj.'] Please, Amos !
Agnes.
Stop a moment ! Mr. Winterfield, your sister
doesn't in the least understand how matters are
with me. I am returning to England — but with
Mr. Cleeve. [Eecklessbj.] Oh, you'd hear of it
eventually ! He is reconciled to his wife.
Gertrude.
Oh — ! Then, surely, you —
Agnes.
No. The reconciliation goes no further than
mere outward appearances. [^Turning away.'] He
relies upon me as much as ever. [Beatinr/ her
hands together jmssionatelg.] He can't spare me
— can't spare me !
Amos.
[/?i a low voice to Gertrude.] Are you satis-
fied ?
Gertrude.
I suspected something of the kind. [Going to
158 THE XOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Agxes, gripping her wrist tightlij.~\ Pull yourself
out of the mud ! Get up — out of the mud !
Agxes.
I have no will to — no desire to !
Gertrude.
You mad thing !
A(;xKS.
[Releasing Itersclf, facing Gektkupe and Amos.]
You are only breaking in upon my hour !
Gertrude.
Your hour — ?
A(iXES.
\_Waving them au'ay.'\ I ask you to go! to go !
[Gertrude returns to Amos.
Amo
My dear Gertrude, you see what our position is
here. If ^Irs. Ebbsmith asks for our help, it is
our duty to give it.
Gertrude.
It is especially my duty, Amos.
Amos.
And I should have thought it especially mine.
However, Mrs. Ebbsmith appears to firmly decline
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITIL 159
our help. And at this point, I confess, I would
rather you left it — ijou^ at least.
Gkktrudp:.
You would rather / left it — I, the virtuous,
unsoiled woman ! Yes, I am a virtuous woman,
Amos ; and it strikes you as odd, I suppose — my
insisting upon friendship with her. But, look
here, both of you ! I'll tell you a secret. You
never knew it, Amos, my dear ; I never allowed
anybody to suspect it —
Amos.
Never knew — what ?
Gertrude.
The sort of married life mine was. It didn't
last long, but it was dreadful, almost intolerable.
Amos.
Gertrude !
Gertrude.
After the first few weeks — weeks, not months !
after the first few weeks of it, my husband treated
me as cruelly — \turnin(j to Agnes] just as cruelly,
I do believe, as your husband treated you. [Amos
makes a movement showing const er nation. '\ Wait !
Now, then ! There was another man — one I
loved — one I couldn't help loving ! I could have
found release with him, perliaps happiness of a
kind. I resisted, came through it. They're dead
i6o THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
— the two are dead ! And here I am, a virtuous,
reputable woman ; saved by the blessed merc}^ of
Heaven ! There, you are not surprised any longer,
Amos ! [Pointing to Agnes. J " My friend, Mrs.
Ebbsmith ! " \_Bu7'stinrj into tears.~\ Oh ! Oh, if
my little boy had been spared to me, he should
have grown up tender to women — tender to
women ! he should, he should — !
[ She sits upon the settee, weejnwj. There
is a short silence.
Amos.
Mrs. Ebbsmith, when I came here to-night I
was angry with Gertrude — not altogether, I hope,
for being in your company. But I was certainly
angry with her for visiting you without my knowl-
edge. I think I sometimes forget that she is
eight and twenty, not eighteen. Well, now I offer
to delay our journey home for a few da3^s — if you
hold out the faintest hope that her companionship
is likely to aid you in any way.
[Agnes, standing motionless, makes no
response. Amos crosses to her and, as
he passes Gertrude, Jlc lets his hand
drop over her shoulder; she clasps it,
then rises and moves to a chair where
she sits, crying silently.
Amos.
\_By Agnes's side — in a loiv voice.~\ You heard
what she said. Saved by the mercy of Heaven.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH. i6i
Agnes.
Yes, but she can feel that.
Amos.
You felt so once.
Agnes.
Once — !
Amos.
You have, in years gone by, asked for help upon
your knees.
Agnes.
It never carne.
Amos.
Repeat your cry.
Agnes.
There would be no answer.
Amos.
Repeat it !
Agnes.
{^Turning n-ijon him.] If miracles coii/cl happen !
If "help," as you term it, did come! Do you
know what " help " would mean to me ?
Amos.
What—!
Agnes.
It would take the last crumb from me !
1 62 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Amos.
This man's — protection ?
Agnes.
{Defiantly.'^ Yes !
Amos.
Oh, Mrs. Ebbsmith — !
Agnes.
{Foint'mg to the door.~\ Well, I've asked you
both to leave me, haven't I ! [Pointing at Ger-
trude who has risen.'] The man site loves is dead
and gone ! She can moralize — ! \_Sitting, beating
upon the settee with her hands.'] Leave me !
[Amos joi^is Gertrude.
Gertrude.
We'll go, Amos.
\_He takes from his p)ocket a small leather-
hound hook ; the cover is well-icorn and
shabby.
Amos.
[ Writing upon the fly-leaf of the book tvith a
piencil.] I am writing our address here, Mrs. Ebb-
smith.
Agnes.
\_In a hard voice.] I already have it.
[Gertrude glances at the book, over
Amos's shoulder, and looks at him tvon-
deringly.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMTTH. 163
Amos.
\_L(iyinr/ the hook on the settee by Agnes's side.~\
You might forget it.
\_SJie stares at the hook with knitted brows
for a 7uonie?it, then stretches out her
ha?id and opens it.
Agnes.
[ Withdrawing her liand sharjj/y.^ No — I don't
accept your gift.
Amos.
The address of two friends is upon the fly-leaf.
Agnes.
I thank both of you — but 3^ou shall never be
troubled again by me. \_Rising, jiointing to the
book.'] Take that away ! {^Sitting facing the stove,
the door of which she opens, replenishing the fire —
excitedly. ~\ Mr. Cleeve may be back soon ; it
would be disagreeable to you all to meet again.
[Gertrude gently pushes Amos aside,
and p)ichi7ig up the book froin the settee,
pflaces it vjyon the table.
Gertrude.
[To Agnes — pointing to the book.] This
frightens you. Simple print and paper, so you
pretend to regard it — but it frightens you. \JVith
a (piick moveynent, Agnes twists her chair round
and faces Gertrude y?erce/y/.] I called you a mad
1 64 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
thing just now. A week ago I did think you half-
mad — a poor, ill-used creature, a visionary, a
moral woman living immorally; yet, in spite of
all, a woman to be loved and pitied. But now I'm
beginning to think that you're only frail — wanton.
Oh, you're not so mad as not to know you're
wicked! \_Tappincj the book forcibly.'] And so
this frightens you !
Agnes.
You're right ! Wanton ! That's what I've be-
come ! And I'm in my right senses, as you say.
I suppose I was mad once for a little time, years
ago. And do you know what drove me so ? [Strik-
ing the book ivlth her fist. ~\ It was tliat — that!
Gertrude.
That!
Agnes.
I'd trusted in it, clung to it, and it failed me.
Never once did it stop my ears to the sound of a
curse; when I was beaten it didn't make the blows
a whit the lighter; it never healed my bruised
flesh, my bruised spirit ! Yes, that drove me dis-
tracted for a while ; but I'm sane now — now it is
yoH that are mad, mad to believe ! You foolish
people, not to know [beating her breast and fore-
head] that Hell or Heaven is here and here !
[Poijiting to the book.] Take it !
[Gertrude turns Qicay and joins Amos,
and they walk quickly to tlie door.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 165
Agnes.
\_Franticalhj.~\ I'll not endure the sight of it — !
\_As they reach the door, Gertrude looks
back and sees Agnes hurl the book into
the fire. They go out. Agnes starts
to her feet and stands motionless for a
moment, her head bent, her fingers
twisted in her hair. Then she raises
her head ; the expression of her face has
changed to a look of fright and horror.
Uttering a loud crij, she hastens to the
stove and, thrusting her arm into the
fire, drags ont the book. Gertrude
and Amos re-enter quickly in alarm.
Gertrude.
Agnes — !
\_They .'^tand looking at Agnes, ivho is
kneeling upon the ground, clutching the
charred book.
end of the third act.
1 66 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
THE FOURTH ACT.
The scene is an crpcvrtment hi the dnnj^o San Bar-
tolomeo. The ivalls are of j^laster ; the ceiling
is frescoed in cheaj) modern-Italian fashion.
An arch spans the room, at tlie further end of
ivhicli is a door leading to Jgnes\s hedroom ;
to the left, and behind the svjijjort of the arch,
is an exit on to a landing, while a nearer door,
on the same side, oj^ens into another room. The
furniture, and the feiu objects attached to the
walls, are characteristic of a moderate-priced
Venetian lodging. Placed about the room, how-
ever, are photographs in frames, and pretty
knick-knacks personal to Gertrude, and a
travelling trunk and hag are also to be seen.
The shutters of the tu'o nearer windows arc
closed ; a broad stream of moonlight, coming
through the further windotc, foods the upper
part of the room.
Hephzibah, a grey-linired north-country-wo7nan
dressed as a lodges maid, is collecting the
k7iiek-knacks and j^ladnff them in the trav-
elling-hag. After a moment or two, Gertrude
entei's hy the further door.
Gertrude.
[At the partly closed door, speakiiig into the fur-
ther room.\ I'll come back to you in a little while,
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 167
Agnes. \_Closlng the door and addressing Hephzi-
BAH.] How are you getting on, Heppy ?
Hephzibah.
A 'reet, Miss Gerty. I'm puttin' together a' the
sma' knick-knacks, to lay them wi' the claes i' th'
trunks.
Gertrude.
[^Taking some jj/iofograj^hs from the table and
bringing them to Hephzibah.] We leave here at
a quarter to eight in the morning; not a minute
later.
Hephzibah.
Aye. Will there be much to pack for Mistress
Cleeve ?
Gertrude.
Nothing at all. Besides her hand-bag, she has
only the one box.
Hephzibah.
\_Pointlng to the trunk.'] ISTay, nobbut that
thing !
Gertrude.
Yes, nobbut that. I packed that for her at the
Palazzo.
Hephzibah.
Eh, it won't gi' us ower much trouble to maid
Mistress Cleeve when we get her hame.
1 68 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH.
Gertrude.
Heppy, we are not going to call — my friend —
" Mrs. Cleeve."
Hephzibah.
Nay ! what will thee call her ?
Gertrude.
I'll tell you — by and by. Kemember, she must
never, never be reminded of the name.
Hephzibah.
Aye, I'll be maist carefu'. Poor leddy ! After
the way she tended tljat husband o' hers in Flor-
ence neet and day, neet and day !
Gertrude.
The world's full of unhappiness, Heppy.
Hephzibah.
The world's full o' husbands. I canna' bide 'em.
They're true eneugh when they're ailin' — but a
lass can't keep her Jo always sick. Hey, Miss
Gerty ! Do f orgie your auld Heppy !
Gertrude.
For what ?
Hephzibah.
Why, your own man, so I've heered, ne'er had
as much as a bit headache till he caught his fever
and died o't.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 169
Gertrude.
No, I never knew Captain Thorpe to complain
of an ache or a pain.
Hephzibah.
And he was a rare, bonny husband to thee, if a'
tales be true.
Gertrude.
Yes, Heppy. \_Listening, startled.'^ Who's
this ?
Hephzibah.
\_Golng and looking.^ Maister Amos.
[Amos enters hriskly,
Amos.
[To Gertrude.] How is she?
Gertrude.
^^Assisthig hlni to remove his overcoat.'] More as
she used to be ; so still, so gentle. She's reading.
Amos.
\_Looklng at her significa7itly.~\ Reading?
Gertrude.
Reading.
\_He sits humming a tune, while Heppy
takes off his shoes and gives him his
slippers.
I70 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Hephzibah.
Eh, Maister Amos, it's good to see thee sae glad-
some.
Amos.
Home, Heppy, home !
Hephzibah.
Aye, hame !
Amos
With our savings !
Hephzibah.
Thy savings — !
Amos.
Tsch ! get on with your packing.
[Hephzibah ^70^5 out^ carrymrj the traveU
ling-hag and Amos's shoes. He ex-
changes the coat he is wearing for a
shabby little black jacket which Ger-
trude brings him.
Gertrude.
\_Filling Amos's 2)W^'~\ ^^^^11, dear ! Go on !
Amos.
Well, I've seen them.
Gertrude.
Them — ?
THE iXOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 171
Amos.
The duke and Sir Sand ford Cleeve.
Gertrude.
At the hotel ?
Amos.
I found them sitting together in the hall, smok-
ing, listening to some music.
Gertrude.
Quite contented with the arrangement they be-
lieved they had brought about.
Amos.
Apparently so. Especially the baronet — a poor,
cadaverous creature.
Gertrude.
Where was Mr. Cleeve ?
Amos.
He had been there, had an interview with his
wife, and departed.
Gertrude.
Then by this time he has discovered that Mrs.
Ebbsmitli has left him ?
Amos.
I suppose so.
172 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH.
Gertrude.
Well, well ! the duke and the cadaverous bar-
onet ?
Amos.
Oh, I told them I considered it my duty to let
them know that the position of affairs had sud-
denly become altered. \_SJie jjuts Ms jnpa in Iris
mouth and strikes a match.'] That, in point of
fact, Mrs. Ebbsmith had ceased to be an element
in their scheme for re-establishing Mr. Cleeve's
household.
Gertrude.
\_Holding a Ivjld to his pipe."^ Did the}^ inquire
as to her movements ?
Amos.
The duke did — guessed we had taken her.
Gertrude.
What did they say to that ?
Amos.
The baronet asked me whether I was the chap-
lain of a Home for — \_ang)''ilij~\ ah !
Gertrude.
Brute ! And then ?
Amos.
Then they suggested that I ought hardly to
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 173
leave them to make the necessary explanations to
their relative, Mr. Lucas Cleeve.
Gertrude.
Yes — well?
Amos.
I replied that I fervently hoped I should never
set eyes on their relative again.
Gertrude.
\_Gleefullij.-\ Ha!
Amos.
But that Mrs. Ebbsmith had left a letter behind
her at the Palazzo Arconati, addressed to that gen-
tleman, which I presumed contained as full an ex-
planation as he could desire.
Gertrude.
Oh, Amos — !
Amos.
Eh?
Gertrude.
You're mistaken there, dear ; it was no letter.
Amos.
No letter—?
Gertrude.
Simply four shakily written words.
174 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH.
Amos.
Only four words !
Gertrude.
'^ My — hour — is — over." [Hephzibah enters
with a card on a little tray. Gertrude reads the
card and utter'S an exclamation. Taking the card
— U7ider her breath.^ Amos!
[He goes to her ; they stare at the card
together.
Amos.
[To Hephzibah.] Certainly.
[Hephzibah goes out, the7i returns with
the Duke of St. Olpherts, and re-
tires. St. Olpherts hoivs graciously
to Gertrude, and, more formall to
Amos.
Amos.
Pray sit down.
[St. Olpherts seats himself on the settee.
St. Olpherts.
Oil, my dear sir ! If I may use such an expres-
sion in your presence — here is the devil to pay !
Amos.
[To St. Olpherts.] You don't mind my pipe?
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 175
[St. Olpherts waves a hand pleasantlij.~\ And
I don't mind your expression. \_Sitting by the
tahle.~\ The devil to pay ?
St. Olpherts.
This, I daresay well-intentioned, interference of
yours has brought about some very unpleasant
results. Mr. Cleeve returns to the Palazzo Arco-
nati and finds that Mrs. Ebbsmith has flown.
Amos.
That result, at least, was inevitable.
St. Olpherts.
Whereupon he hurries back to the Danieli and
denounces us all for a set of conspirators.
Amos.
Your Grace doesn't complain of the injustice of
that charge ?
St. Olpherts.
\_Snillingly.'] No, no, I don't complain. But
the brother — the wife ! Just when they ima-
gined they had bagged the truant — there's the
sting !
Gertrude.
Oh, then Mr. Cleeve now refuses to carry out
his part of the shameful arrangement ?
176 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
St. Olpherts.
Absolutely. \Rising^ taking a chair, and placing
it }>ij the settee.'] Come into this, dear Mrs.
Thorn — !
Amos.
Thorpe.
St. Olpherts.
Come into this! \_Sitting again.~\ You under-
stand the sort of man we have to deal with in Mr.
Cleeve.
Gertrude.
\_Sitting.'] A man who prizes a woman when he
has lost her.
St. Olpherts.
Precisely.
Gertrude.
Men don't relish, I suppose, being cast off by
women.
St. Olpherts.
It's an inversion of the picturesque ; the male
abandoned is not a pathetic figure. At any rate,
our poor Lucas is now raving fidelity to Mrs.
Ebbsmith.
Gertrude.
\Indujnantly . ] Ah — !
St. Olpherts.
If you please, he cannot, will not, exist without
her. Reputation, fame, fortune, are nothing when
THE NOTORIOUS A/RS. EBBSMITH. 177
weighed against — Mrs. Ebbsmith. And we may
go to perdition, so that he recovers — Mrs. Ebb-
smith.
Amos.
Well— to be plain — you're not asking us to
sympathize with Mrs. Cleeve and her brother-in-
law over their defeat?
St. Olpherts.
Certainly not. All I ask, INIr. Winterfield, is
that you will raise no obstacle to a meeting be-
tween Mrs. Cleeve and — and —
Gertrude.
No!
[St. Olpherts sujnifies assent; Ger-
trude makes a movement.
St. Olpherts.
\_To Jier.~\ Don't go.
Amos.
The object of such a meeting ?
St. Olpherts.
Mrs. Cleeve desires to make a direct, personal
appeal to Mrs. Ebbsmith.
Gertrude.
Oh, what kind of woman can this Mrs. Cleeve
be?
178 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
St. Olpherts.
A woman of character, who sets herself to ac-
complish a certain task —
Gertrude.
Character !
Amos.
Hush, Gerty !
St. Olpherts.
And who gathers her skirts tightly round her
and gently tip-toes into the mire.
Amos.
To i)ut it clearly — in order to get her unfaith-
ful husband back to London, Mrs. Cleeve would
deliberately employ this weak, unhappy woman as
a lure.
St. Olpherts.
Perhaps Mrs. Cleeve is an unhappy woman.
Gertrude.
What work for a wife !
St. Olpherts.
Wife — nonsense ! She is only married to
Cleeve.
Amos.
[Walking up and doivn.'] It is proposed that
this meeting should take place — when ?
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 179
St. Olpherts.
I have brought Sir Sandford and Mrs. Cleeve
with me. \_Pointing toward the outer door. ~\ They
are —
Amos.
If I decline ?
St. Olpherts.
It's known you leave for Milan at a quarter to
nine in the morning ; there might be some sort of
foolish, inconvenient scene at the station.
Amos.
Surely your Grace — ?
St. Olpherts.
Oh, no, I shall be in bed at that hour. I mean
between the women, perhaps — and Mr. Cleeve.
\_Golng to Amos.] Come, come, sir, you can't
abduct Mrs. Ebbsmith — nor can we. Nor must
you gag her. [Amos appears angry and per-
jdexed.'] Pray be reasonable. Let her speak out
for herself, here, finall}^, and settle the business.
Come, sir, come !
Amos.
\_Going to Gertrude, and speaking in a low
voice.'\ Ask her. [Gertrude ^oe^-o^^i.] Cleeve!
Where is he while this poor creature's body and
soul are being played for ? You have told him
that she is with us ?
i8o THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
St. Olphekts.
No, / haven't.
Amos.
He must suspect it.
St. Olpherts.
Well, candidly, Mr. Winterfield, Mr. Cleeve is
just now employed in looking for Mrs. Ebbsmith
elsewhere.
Amos.
Elsewhere ?
St. Olpherts.
Sir Sandford recognized that, in his brother's
present mood, the young man's presence might be
prejudicial to the success of these delicate negotia-
tions.
Amos.
So some lie has been told him, to keep him out
of the way ?
St. Olpherts.
Now, Mr. Winterfield — !
Amos.
Good heavens, duke — forgive me for my rough-
ness — you appear to be fouling your hands, all of
you, with some relish !
St. Olpherts.
I must trouble you to address remarks of that
THE NOTORIOUS A/RS. EBBSMITH. i8i
nature to Sir Sandford Cleeve. I am no longer a
prime mover in the affair ; I am simply standing
by.
Amos.
But how can you " stand by " !
St, Olpherts.
Confound it, sir — if you will trouble yourself
to rescue people — there is a man to be rescued
here as well as a woman ; a man, by-the-way, who
is a — a sort of relative of mine !
Amos.
The woman first !
St. Olpherts.
Not always. You can rescue this woman in a
few weeks' time ; it can make no difference.
Amos.
\_Indi(jnanthj.~\ Ah — !
St. Olpherts.
Oh, you are angry !
Amos.
I beg your pardon. One word ! I assure your
Grace that I truly believe this wretched woman is
at a fatal crisis in her life ; I believe that if I lose
her now there is every chance of her slipping back
1 82 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
into a misery and despair out of which it will be
impossible to drag her. Oh, I'll be perfectly open
with you ! At this moment we — my sister and I
— are not sure of her. Her affection for this man
may still induce her to sacrifice herself utterly for
him; she is still in danger of falling to the lowest
depth a woman can attain. Come, duke, don't help
these people ! And don't " stand by " ! Help me
and my sister ! For God's sake !
St. Olphekts.
My good Mr. Winterfield, believe me or not, I —
I positively like this woman.
Amos.
{^Gladly.-] Ah!
St. OLPilEKTS.
She attracts me curiously. And if she wanted
assistance —
Amos.
Doesn't she ?
St. Olpherts.
Money —
Amos.
No, no.
St. Olpherts.
She should have it. But as for the rest —
well —
Amos.
Well?
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 183
St. Olpherts.
Well, sir, you must understand me. It is a fail-
ing of mine ; I can't approach women — I never
could — in the Missionary spirit.
[Gertrude re-enters ; the men turn to face her.
Amos.
\_To Gertrude.] Will she— ?
Gertrude.
Yes. [St. Olpherts limps out of the room, bow-
ing to Gertrude as he passes. ~\ Oh, Amos !
Amos.
Are we to lose the poor soul after all, Gerty ?
Gertrude.
I — I can't think so — oh, but I'm afraid.
[St. Olpherts returns, and Sir Sand-
ford Cleeve enters with Sybil Cleeve.
Sandford is a long, lean, old-young
man with a pinched face. Sybil is a.
stately, handsome young woman, beau-
tifully gowned and thickly veiled.
St. Olpherts.
Mrs. Thorpe — Mr. Winterfield.
[Sandford and Sybil, bow distantly to
Gertrude and Amos.
1 84 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Amos.
\_To Saistdford a7id Sybil, indicating the settee.']
Will you — ? [Sybil sits on settee ; Sandford
takes the chair beside her.] Gertrude —
[Gertrudp: f/oes out.
Sir Sandford.
\_Po7npously.'] Mr. Winterfiekl, I find myself
engaged upon a peculiarly distasteful task.
Amos.
I have no hope, Sir Sandford, that you will not
have strength to discharge it.
Sir Sandford.
We shall object to loftiness of attitude on your
part, sir. You would do well to reflect that we are
seeking to restore a young man to a useful and
honourable career.
Amos.
You are using very honourable means, Sir Sand-
ford.
Sir Sandford.
I shall protest against any perversion of words,
Mr. Winterfield —
\_The door of Agnes's room ojjens, and
Gertrude comes in, then Agnes. The
latter is in a rustij, iU-Jitting, black,
stuff dress ; her hair is tightly drawn
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 185
from her brows; her face is haggard,
her eyes are red and sunken. A strip
of linen binds her right hand.
St. Olpherts.
[Speaki7ig into Sybil's ear.] The lean witch
again ! The witch of the Iron Hall at St. Luke's !
Sybil.
[In a IV his per. 2 Is that the woman ?
St. Olpherts.
You see only one of 'em — there are two there.
[Sandford rises as Agnes comes sloivly
forward, accompanied by Gertrude.
Amos joins Gertrude, and they go to-
gether into an adjoining room, Ger-
trude giving Agxes an appealing look.
Sir Sandford.
\_To Agxes.J I — I am Mr. Lucas Cleeve's
brother ; [^with a motion of the hand towards
Sybil] this is — this is —
[He swallows the rest of the announce-
ment, and retires to the back of the room
where he stands before the stove. St.
Olpherts strolls away and disappears.
Sybil.
[To Agnes, in a hard, dry, disdainful voice.] I
1 86 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH.
beg that you will sit down. [Agnes sits, mechani-
callij, with an expressionless face.~\ I — I don't
need to be told that this is a very — a very un-
womanly proceeding on my part.
Sir Sandford.
I can't regard it in that light, under the peculiar
circumstances.
Sybil.
I'd rather you wouldn't interrupt me, Sandford.
\_To Agnes.] But the peculiar circumstances, to
borrow my brother-in-law's phrase, are not such as
develop sweetness and modesty, I suppose.
Sir Sandford.
Again I say you wrong yourself there, Sybil —
Sybil.
[Impatiently.^ Oh, please let me wrong myself,
for a change. [To Agnes.] When my husband
left me, and I heard of his association with you,
I felt sure that his vanity would soon make an
openly irregular life intolerable to him. Vanity is
the cause of a great deal of virtue in men ; the
vainest are those who like to be thought respectable.
Sir Sandford.
Eeally, I must protest — !
Sybil.
But Lady Cleeve — the mother — and the rest
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 187
of the family have not had the patience to Avait
for the fulfilment of my prophecy. And so I have
been forced to undertake this journey.
Sir Saxdford.
I demur to the expression " forced," Sybil —
Sybil.
Cannot we be left alone ? Surely — ! [Sand-
ford hoivs stiffly and moves aivay, following St.
Olpherts.] However — there's this to be said
for them, poor people — whatever is done to save
my husband's prospects in life must be done now.
It is no longer possible to play fast and loose with
friends and supporters — to say nothing of ene-
mies. His future now rests upon a matter of
days, hours almost. \_Rlsing and walking about
agitatedly. ~\ That is why I am sent here — well,
why I am here.
Agnes.
\_In a low, quavering voice.^ What is it you are
all asking me to do now ?
Sybil.
We are asking you to continue to — to exert your
intluence over him for a little while longer.
Agnes.
^Rising imsteadily.'] Ah — ! [She makes a
7n.ovement to go, falters, and irresolutely sits again.~\
My influence ! mine !
1 88 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH
Sybil.
[With a stamp of the foot-l You wouldn't
underrate your power if you had seen him, heard
him, about an hour ago [jnockingly'], after he had
discovered his bereavement.
Agnes.
He will soon forget me.
Sybil,
Yes, if you don't forsake him,
Agnes.
I am going to England, into Yorkshire ; accord-
ing to your showing, that should draw him back.
Sybil.
Oh, I've no doubt we shall hear of him — in
Yorkshire ! You'll find him dangling about your
skirts, in Yorkshire !
Agnes.
And he will find that I am determined, strong.
Sybil.
Ultimately he will tire, of course. But when ?
And what assurance have we that he returns to us
when he has wearied of pursuing you ? Besides,
THE NOTORIOUS MRS, EBBSMITH. 189
don't I tell you that we must make sure of him
now? It's of no use his begging us, in a month's
time, to patch up home and reputation. It must
be notu — and you can end our suspense. Come,
hideous as it sounds, this is not much to ask.
Agnes.
[ Shrinking fro m her. ] Oh — !
Sybil.
Oh, don't regard me as the wife ! That's an un-
necessary sentiment, I pledge you my word. It's
a little late in the day, too, for such considerations.
So, come, help us !
Agnes.
I will not.
Sybil.
He has an old mother —
Agnes.
Poor woman !
Sybil.
And remember, i/oii took him away — !
Agnes.
I!
Sybil.
Practically you did — with your tender nursing
I90 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH.
and sweet compassion. Isn't it straining a point
— to shirk bringing him back ?
Agnes.
[Rising.'] I did not take him from you. You
— you sent him to me.
Sybil.
Ho, yes ! that tale has been dinned into your
ears often enough, I can quite believe. / sent him
to you — my coldness, heartlessness, selfishness
sent him to you. The unsympathetic wife, eh ?
Yes, but you didn't put yourself to the trouble of
asking for my version of the story before you
mingled your woes with his. [Agnes faces liev
suddenly.'] You know him now. Have I been
altogether to blame, do you still think ? Unsym-
pathetic! Because I've so often had to tighten
my lips, and stare blankly over his shoulder, to
stop myself from crying out in weariness of his
vanity and pettiness ? Cruel ! Because, occasion-
ally, patience became exhausted at the mere con-
templation of a man so thoroughly, greedily
self-absorbed ? Why, you married miserably, the
Duke of St. Olpherts tells us ! Before you made
yourself my husband's champion and protector,
why didn't you let your experience speak a word
for me ? [Agnes quickly turns away and sits ujjon
the settee^ her hands to her hroiv.] However, I
didn't come here to revile you. \_Standing by her.]
They say that you're a strange woman — not the
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 191
sort of woman one generally finds doing such
things as you have done ; a woman with odd
ideas. I hear — oh, I'm willing to believe it ! —
that there's good in you.
[Agnes breaks into a low peal of hysteri-
cal laughter.
Agnes.
Who tells you — that?
Sybil.
The Duke.
Agnes.
Ha, ha, ha ! A character — from him ! ha, ha,
ha!
Sybil.
\_Her voice and manner softening. ~\ Well, if
there is pity in you, help us to get my husband
back to London, to his friends, to his old ambi-
tions.
Agnes.
Ha, ha, ha, ha ! your husband !
Sybil.
The word slips out. I swear to you that he and
I can never be more to each other than companion
figures in a masquerade. The same roof may
cover us ; but between two wings of a house, as
you may know, there often stretches a wide desert.
192 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
I despise him, he hates me. [ Walking aivay, her
voice h7'eakin(j.~\ Only — I did love him once . . .
T don't want to see him utterly thrown away —
wasted ... I don't quite want to see that . . .
[Agnes I'lses and approaches Sybil, fearfully.
Agnes.
[7?i a wliisper.'] Lift your veil for a moment.
[Sybil raises her veil.~\ Tears — tears — [with a
deep groan. ~\ — Oh — ! \^YBiijtur7is away.'] I —
I'll do it . . . I'll go back to the Palazzo ... at
once . . . [^^YBih drau's herself up sudde?ily.'] I've
wronged you ! wronged you ! oh, God ! oh, God !
\_She totters away and goes into her bed-
room. For a moment or two Sybil
stands still, a look of horror and repul-
sion upon her face. Then she turns
and goes towards the outer door.
Sybil.
[Calling.] Sandford ! Sandford !
[Sir Sandford Cleeve and the Duke of
St. Olpherts enter.
Sir Sandford.
[To Sybil.] Well—?
Sybil.
She is going back to the Palazzo.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 193
Sir Saxdford.
You mean that she consents to — ?
Sybil.
S^Stamjpinrj her foot.l^ I mean that she will go
back to the Palazzo. [_Sltting and leaninfj her
head uj^fon her hands. ~\ Oh ! oh !
Sir Saxdford.
Need Y>^e wait longer, .then ?
Sybil.
These people — these people who are befriend-
ing her ! Tell them.
Sir Saxdford.
Really, it can hardly be necessary to consult —
Sybil.
lFlercehj.~\ I will have them told ! I will have
them told !
[Saxdford goes to the door of the other
room and knocks, returning to Sybil as
Gertrude and Amos enter. Sybil
drau's down her veil.
Gertrude.
{Looking round.] Mrs. Ebbsmith — ? Mrs
Ebbsmith — !
194 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
Sir Sandford.
Er — many matters have been discussed with
Mrs. Ebbsmith. Undoubtedly she has, for the
moment, considerable influence over my brother
She has consented to exert it, to induce him to
return, at once, to London.
Amos.
I think I understand you !
[Agnes appears at the aoor of her room
dressed in bonnet and cloak.
Gertrude.
Agnes — !
[Agnes comes forward^ stretches out her
hand to Gertrude, and throws herself
upon the settee.
Sybil.
[To Sandford, clutching his arm.'] Take me
away. \_They turn to go.
Gertrude.
[Jo Sybil.] Mrs. Cleeve — ! \Looking down
upon Agnes.] Mrs. Cleeve, we — my brother and
I — hoped to save this woman. She was worth
saving. You have utterly destroyed her.
[Sybil makes no answer, hut walks slowly
aicay with Sandford, theyi stops and
turns abruptly.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 195
Sybil.
[ With a gasp.'\ Oh — ! No — I will not accept
the service of this wretched woman. I loathe my-
self for doing what I have done. {^Cominq to
AfiXES.] Look up ! Look at me ! [Froudhj Uft-
iiKj^ her veil.'] I decline your help — I decline it.
\_To Gertrude and Amos.] You hear me you
— and you ? I unsay all that I've said to her.
It's too degrading; I will not have such an act
upon my conscience. \_To Agnes.] Understand
me ! If you rejoin this man I shall consider it a
fresh outrage upon me. I hope you will keep with
your friends.
[Gertrude holds out her hand to Sybil;
Sybil touches it dlstantlij.
Agxes.
\_Clutching at Sybil's sklrts.~\ Forgive me!
forgive — !
Sybil.
\_Retreatinrj.'] Ah, please — ! \_Turninfj and con-
fronting Saxdford.] Tell your mother I have
failed. I am not going back to England.
[Lucas enters quickly ; he and Sybil
come face to face. They stand looking
at each other for a moment, then she
siveeps past him and goes out. ^A.i<iT>-
FORD follows her.
Lucas.
[Coming to Agnes.] Agnes— [To Agxes, in
196 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH.
rapid, earnest undertones. '\ They sent me to the
railway station ; my brother told me you were
likely to leave for Milan to-night. I ought to
have guessed sooner that you were in the hands
of this meddling parson and his sister. Why has
my wife been here — ?
Agnes.
\In a low twice, rocking herself gently to and
fro.~\ Your wife — your wife — !
Lucas.
And the others ? What scheme is afoot now ?
Why have you left me ? Why didn't you tell me
outright that I was putting you to too severe a
test ? You tempted me, you led me on, to propose
that I should patch up my life in that way. \_She
rises, with an expressionless face. ~\ But it has had
one good result. I know now how much I depend
upon you. Oh, I have had it all out with myself,
pacing up and down that cursed railway station.
\_Laying his hand upon her arm and speaking into
her ear.'] I don't deceive myself any longer.
Agnes, this is the great cause of the unhappiness
I've experienced of late years — I am not fit for
the fight and press of life. I wear no armour ; I
am too horribly sensitive. My skin bleeds at a
touch ; even flattery wounds me. Oh, the wretched-
ness of it ! But you can be strong — at your weak-
est, there is a certain strength in you. With you,
in time, I feel / shall grow stronger. Only I must
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 197
withdraw from the struggle for a while ; you must
take me out of it and let me rest — recover breath,
as it were. Come ! Forgive me for having treated
you ungratefully, almost treacherously. To-mor-
row we will begin our search for our new home.
Agnes !
Agnes.
I have already found a home.
Lucas.
Apart from me, you mean ?
Agnes.
Apart from you.
Lucas.
No, no. You'll not do that !
Agnes.
Lucas, this evening, two or three hours ago, you
planned out the life we were to lead in the future.
We had done with "madness," if you remember;
henceforth we were to be " mere man and woman."
Lucas.
You agreed —
Agnes.
Then. But we hadn't looked at each other
clearly then, as mere man and woman. You, the
man — what are you ? You've confessed —
198 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBB SMITH.
Lucas.
I lack strength ; I shall gain it.
Agnes.
Never from me — never from me. For what am
I ? Untrue to myself, as you are untrue to your-
self ; false to others, as you are false to others ;
passionate, unstable, like yourself; like yourself,
a coward. A coward. I — / was to lead women !
/ was to show them, in your company, how laws
— laws made and laws that are natural — may be
set aside or slighted ; how men and women may
live independent and noble lives without rule, or
guidance, or sacrament. J was to be the example —
the figure set up for others to observe and imitate.
But the figure was made of wax — it fell awry at
the first hot breath that touched it ! You and I !
What a partnership it has been ! How base and
gross and wicked almost from the very begin-
ning! We know each other now thoroughly —
how base and wicked it would remain ! No, go
your way, Lucas, and let me go mine.
Lucas.
Where — where are you going ?
Agnes.
To Ketherick — to think. [ Wrmging Iter ha7ids.']
Ah, I have to think, too, now, of the woman I
have wronged.
THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH. 199
Lucas.
Wronged ?
Agnes.
Your wife ; the woman I have wronged, who
came here to-night, and — spared me. Oh, go !
Lucas.
Not like this, Agnes ! not like this !
Agxes.
\_Appealingly.~\ Gertrude ! [Lucas looks round
— first at Gertrude then at Amos — and, ivith a
hard smile upon his face, turns to (jo. Siuldenltj
Agnes touches his sleeve.'] Lucas, when I have
learnt to pray again, I will remember you every
day of my life.
LuCASo
I Star in fj at her.] Pray! . . . you! . . .
\_She inclines her head twice, slowly;
without another tvord he ivalks away
and goes out. Agnes sinks upon the
settee; Amos and Gertrude remain,
stiffly and silently, in the attitude of
people ivho are icaiting for the depar-
ture of a disagreeable person.
St. Olpherts.
{^After watching Lucas's departure.] Now, I
wonder whether, if he hurried to his wife at this
200 THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH.
moment, repentant, and begged her to relent — I
wonder whether — whether she would — Avhether
— [lookmg at Amos and Gektrude, a little dis-
concerted']— I beg your pardon — you're not inter-
ested ?
Amos.
Frankly, we are not.
St. Olpherts.
No ; other people's affairs are tedious. [Pro-
ducing his gloves.'] AVell ! A week in Venice —
and the weather has been delightful. \_Shaki7ig
hands with Gertrude, whose express io7i remains
unchanged.] A pleasant journey! [^Going to
Agnes, offey'ing Ids hand.] Mrs. Ebbsmith — ?
\_She lifts her maimed hand.] Ah ! An accident?
\_She nods.] I'm sorry . . . I . . .
[_He tur7is aivaij and goes out, bowing to
Amos as he passes.
THE end.
A. W. PINERO'S PLA
THE TiriES.
A Comedy in Four Acts. Six male and seven female characters. Scene, a singl
elegant interior; costumes, modem and fashionable. An entertaining piece, of stron.
dramatic interest and admirable satirical humor. (1892.) !»■
THE PROFLIGATE. ™
A Play in Four Acts. Seven male and five female characters. Scenery, thre
interiors, rather elaborate ; costumes, modem. This is a piece of serious interest, pow
erfully dramatic in movement, and tragic in its event. An admirable play, but not suite!
for amateur performance. (1892.)
THE HOBBY HORSE.
A Comedy in Three Acts. Ten male and five female characters. Scenery, tw(
interiors and an exterior; costumes, modern. This clever satire of false philanthropy i
one of the most interesting of Mr. Pinero's plays, and is an admirable acting piece
(1892.)
LADY BOUNTIFUL.
A Play in Four Acts. Eight male and seven female characters. Costumes, mi
em; scenery, four interiors, not easy. A play of powerful sympathetic interest, a littJI'
sombre in key, but not unrelieved by humorous touches. (1892.) i^H
THE CABINET fllNISTER.
A Farce in Four Acts, Ten male and nine female characters. Costumes, mnXer
society; scenery, three interiors. A very amusing piece, ingenious in construction, an
brilliant in dialogue. (1892.)
DANDY DICK. ||i
A Play in Three Acts. Seven male and four female characters. Costumes, modert
scenery, two interiors. An excellent play, full of humor, and a capital acting piec
(1893.)
Note. — T/ie above plays are sold for reading only. The acting right in each ca
is reserved, and can only be obtained tipon payment of an author'' s royalty of $20 f
each performance.
Price, paper covers, 50 cents each.
SWEET LAVENDER and THE HAQISTRATE
are printed as Manuscript only, and are not for sale, but can be obtained for an
teur production on payment of an Author's Royalty of $30.00 a performance,
each case in advance. Sample copies can only be sent to people personal
known to us, or satisfactorily recommended. Copies will, however, be deposited
the hands of our correspondents at different principal points for examination by those
whom the plays are not already known. All business relating to these plays can be C(
eluded only by direct correspondence with us, which is accordingly invited.
Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process.
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide
Treatment Date: April 2009
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